


Diverge

by HeartEyes4Mariska



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Assault, Attraction, Car Accidents, Case Fic, Drama, Duress, F/F, Guns, Homophobia, Hostage Situations, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Isolation, Medical Trauma, Michigan, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Non-Graphic Violence, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome, Travel, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Voyeurism, Wilderness Survival, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 37,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28639437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartEyes4Mariska/pseuds/HeartEyes4Mariska
Summary: Amanda and Olivia are on their way to Adrian, Michigan to interview a victim of a suspected serial rapist, when disaster strikes. Was it just car trouble? Or is their rapist one step ahead of them?Pairing will be RoliviaPls heed ratings, trigger warnings, etc.
Relationships: Olivia Benson/Amanda Rollins
Comments: 25
Kudos: 35





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: None, this chapter
> 
> Rating: T, this chapter
> 
> Trigger warnings: References to rape, physical assault

"Tell me again, how we ended up here?" Rollins asked.

"What, you mean everyone doesn't dream of a road trip to the second worst Winter state in America?" Liv returned.

The two women's voices were muffled inside the car, where they had gotten used to the rhythmic scrape of the wipers and the blast of hot air from the vents. Outside the speeding car, snow was falling in fat, wet flakes that melted as they hit the windshield.

"Manhattan is plenty cold enough for me, thanks," Rollins chuckled, rubbing her hands together close to a vent.

"We should be able to stop soon. I'm sure we'll find something hot to eat."

They had touched down in Michigan and rented the car nearly two hours ago, on their way to interview a suspected victim as part of a multi-state serial case they had been working on for a few weeks. Recently, Amanda had commented to Fin that Liv had been holding her back for a lot of desk work, rather than sending her into the field. He had been more than happy to volunteer Rollins for the trip to Michigan when the opportunity presented itself.

Weather had been steadily worsening since they had arrived, with blowing snow and freezing temperatures. Amanda had been thinking of nothing but a warm bed and a hot beverage for the last half a dozen exits. She kept peering into the white-out, wondering how they were supposed to find Nowhere Town in the middle of stormy nowhere. At long last, they passed a sign that told them they weren't far from Adrian, Michigan - normally only an hour-ish from the airport. Amanda was anxious to get out of the car and stretch, her legs bouncing in the passenger footwell.

That was when the car fishtailed on the snow-covered highway.

Startled, Rollins' hands gripped the dash as her heart crowded into her throat. Olivia said nothing in her panic, her attention focused on not stomping the brake. She adjusted the wheel into the slide and eased off the gas, waiting for the vehicle to slow down. It was over in a moment, but was enough of an adrenaline rush to leave both women sitting in silence for a couple minutes.

"I should get out and take a look at the tires," Liv finally spoke over the sound of the heater. "Just to be safe."

"No – no, let me do it," Rollins blurted, touching a hand to Liv's shoulder. "I was dyin' to stretch, anyway."

"Ok. Be quick," Liv told her, peering at the gauges behind the steering wheel.

Amanda stepped out into the blustering air, the fringes of her hair beneath her winter hat immediately catching snowflakes like powdered sugar. She stretched, relieved at the popping of stiff joints. Olivia watched her kicking snow from inside the wheel wells, crouching to look at the tires one at a time. When she crouched to the last, back tire, Liv pulled her cell from the console and tapped it, looking at the time – and the signal, of which there was none.

"Awesome," she mumbled to herself. She was getting tired of driving, and wondered if Rollins might switch. She looked up into the rear view mirror, but Amanda wasn't where she had been standing.

Turning as best she could in her seat, Olivia looked out the windows. Still nothing. Her hands went to her seatbelt, releasing it and opening her door in one swift motion. "Amanda?" she called, "Did you slip back there?"

When there wasn't an immediate response, the adrenaline started coursing again. Rounding the trunk, she was confronted with the image of Rollins' body, toppled onto her side on the quickly gathering snow. Her hat was no longer on her head, and her bright blonde hair was haloed over the snow, stained with red. "Amanda!" Liv dove to her knees next to her, touching Amanda's arm gently. "Amanda? Jesus- "

Pushing back the hair carefully, she saw a bleeding wound, and a goose egg rising from an impact. "Oh, God . . . "

If Amanda had slipped and hit her head on the car, she would have heard it. The blood in Liv's veins ran cold as she realized it looked, instead, like Amanda had been attacked

**TBC**


	2. Messervey's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T, this chapter
> 
> Spoilers: None
> 
> Trigger warnings: medical emergency, isolation, firearm

The howling of the wind was very loud in Liv's ears, as she reached for Amanda's limp body in the desolate, rural cold. Her cop instincts had kicked in, and she let them play out: checking for a pulse, watching for the white vapor signaling respiration, then rolling her carefully to her back. She took a closer look at the head wound, and saw that it was still bleeding slightly. Slipping off one of her mittens, Olivia turned it inside out and applied light pressure.

Rollins' eyelids fluttered slightly, but she didn't fully come to consciousness. With her other hand, Liv wrestled under her coat and unholstered her gun, squinting into the blustery dark.

"Fuck, this isn't good," she whispered.

The few minutes it took to staunch the bleeding felt like a lifetime to Liv, who was eager to provide them some safety. Pushing to her feet, she ran back to get her keys, then returned to the trunk, looking over her shoulder as she unlocked it and grabbed for the first aid kit. Quickly but gently she bandaged the wound to keep it clean.

"C'mon, 'Manda," she urged, "I gotta get us out of here – I can't carry you." She rubbed Rollins' hands briskly, then her cheeks, trying to get a response, but the blonde remained still.

"Goddammit, Amanda, I'm sorry but I gotta get you in the car." Liv took a deep breath, then leaned in and bit down on the unconscious blonde's earlobe until she felt blood squirt, bitter and hot into her mouth.

Amanda's eyes snapped open as she reflexively shoved at the figure atop her. Not stopping long enough to explain, Liv hooked her under the arms and helped her to her feet. Once Amanda was back in the passenger seat, Olivia slammed the trunk shut and raced into the driver's seat, locking the doors.

"Where're we gunna go?" Amanda slurred groggily.

"Anywhere but here," Liv replied, and started driving.

.

.

The world outside the windshield was nothing but whiteout. There was no cell reception, no other traffic, and they were officially lost. Liv prayed for somewhere – anywhere – to wait out the storm that would be safer than the freezing car that was low on gas. When the sign appeared in a pause between gusts of wind, and she didn't somehow miss it, it truly seemed like a miracle.

_Messervey's_. It was a hand-carved, wooden sign, and that was the only word on it; nothing else to hint whether it was motel or private property, a dead pet's resting place or sudden salvation. Olivia took her chances and turned onto the side road next to the sign, beginning a new prayer that the car would make it over the snow. Ten long minutes later, it appeared like a mirage: a private cabin, not much more than a hunting shack in the woods.

Olivia exhaled heavily. "It'll do. We can make it work," she told Amanda, but as she glanced over at her, discovered she was unconscious again.

Parking as close as she could, Olivia got out and tried the front door, not surprised to find it locked. The cabin was obviously deserted, though, so she didn't bother with knocking. She tried the nearby windows, but they were locked as well. Taking a step back, Liv assessed the state of the door before she landed a heavy kick at knob-level. Then another. On the third kick, the door gave at the hole of the deadbolt strikeplate, just enough that she knew the door would open.

Back at the car, Rollins was somewhere between conscious and not, which meant some prodding to get her from the car to the cabin door. Olivia shouldered the door open and was immediately bombarded with the smell of a long closed-up place; the musty, untouched smell of silence and deterioration. Once her eyes adjusted to the dim, however, Liv was relieved to see that, overall, the cabin was still quite solid.

There was a ratty green couch in one corner that Liv sat Amanda on, then began what would become multiple trips to and from the car, bringing in anything she thought might be useful. Finally, she shut the door and slanted a chair under the door knob. The breath that she sucked in then felt like the first time her lungs had really filled since they had slid across the highway.

"Amanda?" She crossed back to the sofa, touched her shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Cold," the blonde mumbled.

"Yeah. Yeah, ok, I'll see what I can do," Liv nodded.

There was a wood stove in the main room, but no electricity otherwise. There was a tiny bedroom with a naked mattress on a frame, and a washroom with just a toilet and sink. She discovered a small linen closet, and was relieved to find a couple of well-worn quilts. Shaking them out for dust and dead bugs, she brought them to Rollins and cocooned her in them.

"Here," she told her, "use these while I work on something else."

A few cabinets, a short stretch of counter with a plastic tub for a makeshift sink, and a vintage-looking, propane double burner sporting a kettle made up the kitchen. In an alcove beyond the stove, Olivia came across wood stacked in a woodbox, breaking into a relieved smile. It took some time, but she was successful in getting a half-decent fire going.

When she felt, finally, calm enough to take an inventory of their situation, it was as though a year had gone by since they had touched down in Michigan, safe and warm. "Let me see your head," she said, joining Amanda on the couch. Liv pulled the bandage away carefully, pleased that the bleeding hadn't recurred. The bruise and corresponding lump were alarming, nevertheless, and she touched it gently, worried about concussion, or skull fracture.

"Are you nauseous? Dizzy?" Rollins shook her head, even as Liv worried at her lip with her teeth. "You must be starving . . . hold on," she told her. In one of the bags she had thrown on the table, she rooted out half a sandwich from the airport, from before they had boarded the plane. "Eat this."

Amanda held the sandwich in both hands, looking at it rather dumbly. As she at last pulled back the plastic wrap and took a bite, Liv asked, "Did you see anything? Did you see who hit you?"

"All I saw was snow."

Olivia switched gears. "Did you hear footsteps, crunching snow? Did you smell anything?"

"No . . . well, exhaust. Then just darkness."

_Fuck_. Liv gripped her gun a little tighter, hating that she couldn't be 100% sure they hadn't been followed.

She paced a tight circle around the small table, letting Rollins finish eating. Luckily, they were both the type to travel with more than enough snacks; between them Liv was sure they had enough to wait out the snowstorm if necessary. It was water she was more concerned about. Even if the pipes weren't broken or damaged, she didn't trust it beyond flushing the toilet. She blinked in her pacing, noticing the kettle for the second time. She stopped.

She took the kettle to the bathroom and tried the taps to the sink, with no results.

"So much for flushing," she muttered.

Outside the door, she shovelled fresh snow by hand into the kettle until it was nearly brimming, then brought it to the stove and placed it on the hot top.

"You do a lotta campin' when you were a kid?" Amanda asked.

"No. Why?"

"Your survival skills are somewhat impressive," the blonde grinned.

"Yeah, well," Liv chuckled, "that has more to do with 23 years on the job than my childhood."

"Really? Huh. Academy never taught _me_ how to build a fire – I had to learn that on my own." After a quiet beat she asked, "What are we gonna do, Liv?"

Olivia's eyes were focused on the licking flames inside the stove. "If you're up to it, I'd like to push the couch over here, in front of the stove. Then I'm going to let you get some sleep."

"Are you going to sleep?"

"Not tonight. Someone has to keep an eye on that bump on your head. And listen."

"For?"

"Animals . . . whoever hit you," the brunette said flatly.

The couch was fairly light, and the two of them had no trouble getting it close to the fire - then pleasantly warm and crackling intermittently. Liv stoked the fire with a long piece of kindling, then tossed a bigger log onto the flames while Amanda buttoned and zipped up, readying herself to try and sleep.

There was still absolutely no hint of a signal on her cell, and she dropped it back in her pocket as she sat beside Rollins, motioning for her to use her thigh as a pillow so they could share the space. She tried not to focus on how smothering the silence and helplessness was as the blonde slowly drifted off on her lap. Gun at the ready in one hand, Olivia braced for a long night.

Outside, the wind and snow raged on in temperatures approaching minus four.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is sort of set loosely around late season 17. The minus four is in reference to Fahrenheit, since a lot of you are in the US, I think. The conversion to Celcius is minus 20. No pre-existing romantic relationship is assumed between the two for this particular narrative. Thanks for the support!


	3. In the Shed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T, this chapter
> 
> Spoilers: None
> 
> Trigger warnings: Isolation, survivalism, firearms references

When Amanda next woke, it was to the sound of brittle wood cracking. Turning her head, she saw Liv's foot, kicking into the log a second time, splitting it unevenly. Her mouth was dry from the thick heat of the fire, and her head was raging.

"What time is it?" she croaked.

"Not light yet," Olivia answered. She poured some of the snow-water that she had boiled and then cooled, into a paper coffee cup she had salvaged from the car. "Here," she said, holding it out for the blonde.

"Thanks."

As Amanda drank, Liv peeled the bandage from her head wound and peered at it. She crossed to the table, dipping the corner of a facecloth into the water, then returned and gently wiped away the dried blood, trying to figure out what she'd been hit with.

"Where'd you get the cloth?"

"My suitcase," Liv replied, tipping Rollins' head toward the light to see the bruising. "Too sharp to be the butt of a gun," she mumbled. _Maybe that means they're not armed, at least._ "Christ, that bruise – does it hurt you?"

"I have a pretty bad headache," Amanda confessed.

"Shit. All I have is Aspirin, and you can't take any until we know if you have a concussion. Not for 24 hours, anyway. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry - you're doing everything right." Amanda smiled gently.

"Go back to sleep," Liv urged, helping her to settle, "it's early."

"You mean late."

"Both," Liv chuckled.

When Rollins was still again, Olivia wandered quietly into the tiny bedroom, where there was a window next to the bed frame. She looked outside, waiting patiently for the wind to pause between gusts. Finally, she saw it – a shed. There was a small storage shed behind the cabin, maybe a little less than 50 feet away.

Even rationing it, there wasn't a whole lot of wood inside the cabin, and staying warm in a storm required quite a bit of heat. She knew that somehow, very soon, she was going to have to try and get to that shed.

.

.

The cabin brightened a little with the rising of the sun, filtering through the swirling of snowflakes. Rollins shivered a little as she rose to wakefulness, the fire having gone down a little. Her head still had a dull ache. Next to her on the couch, Olivia was sitting with her gun loose in one hand, her head back on the couch, having lost her battle with sleep.

"Morning, sunshine."

Liv startled, just enough to wake up without reflexively pulling the trigger. "Mm . . good morning," she mumbled. "Feel better?"

"A little."

Liv was already up and moving, stoking the fire and checking how much water was left. She rifled through their belongings and tossed Amanda a granola bar and a banana.

Amanda looked at the food, then up at Olivia. "Have you eaten anything?"

"I'm okay."

"Liv," Amanda said firmly. "You need to eat, too. Until you do, I'm on a hunger strike."

Olivia glared at the blonde for a beat, then reached in the bag again and came back with a granola bar for herself. "Ok? Eat up," she said, unwrapping her breakfast.

They ate slowly, in front of the stove, hoping the extra chewing would help keep the hunger at bay for a while.

"I'd fucking kill for a coffee," Rollins announced.

"Oh, I'll second that," Liv nodded. She took a deep breath. "Listen, Amanda. There's a shed, outside behind the cabin. You can see it from the window in the bedroom. I'm going to need to go out there, to see if I can get into it."

"What for?"

"Wood, primarily. Hopefully. Anything else useful, if we get lucky."

"I'm coming with you," Amanda said.

"No, you're definitely not," Liv rejected, shaking her head. "I'm not putting both of us in danger, and you're the one with a head wound. You're going to stay here, with your gun, and the door barred, and watch me out the window."

"How is splitting up safe?" Rollins demanded, "I might not be able to see you through the storm! What if you walk in the wrong direction and get lost?!"

Olivia put up her hands. "Amanda, I promise we will figure something out. But you're staying in this cabin."

Amanda pouted and looked into the fire, her eyes as stormy as the scene beyond the cabin's walls.

.

.

There were a lot of relics scattered throughout the Messervey's, but rope wasn't one of them; after scouring high and low through every space, of that they were certain. Olivia wasn't willing to sacrifice the two blankets to create one, but she doubted it would be long enough to be helpful regardless.

Hands on her hips, Liv stood surveying everything on the table, trying to brainstorm something helpful. She heard Amanda, returning from the bathroom.

"Y'know, toilet paper wasn't somethin' I was expecting I'd be missing on this trip," she mused.

"I might have some napkins in here somewhere, for next time," Liv suggested.

"Lord." Amanda made a face.

"Next time we're stranded in the woods, I'll be sure to pack you a roll."

"And a Shewee," Rollins added, making Olivia giggle as she joined her next to the table.

"Wait – I got it!"

"You got a Shewee in there?"

"No, I know what I'm going to do!" Liv grabbed a bag and dug until she came up with a package of water flavor, the kind to put in water bottles. She showed it to Rollins triumphantly.

"Are you sure you didn't get hit in the head, too?"

Liv rolled her eyes. "We're going to melt more snow for water, then use _this_ to make the water red! I'll take it with me when I go, and mark the path I take from the house, so you can follow me if something happens."

Rollins looked at Liv a bit doubtfully.

"Look – do you have a better idea?"

" . . . no," Rollins conceded.

"Ok then."

Liv packed the kettle with snow again, laying it close to the stove to melt. She bundled up her jacket, doubled up on socks, got her mitts and hat together. When the water was ready, she added a generous amount of the flavor and swirled it around in the kettle.

At the door, she hauled on her mittens and looked at Amanda. "You have your gun?" She watched her nod, and gesture to the holster on her hip. "Ok. Just . . . sit tight, stay warm, and give me at least an hour before you worry. I figure I have to get across 50 feet with snow on the ground, plus look around the shed, and then come 50 feet back. If I'm lucky, there might be a shovel out there."

"Be safe, but hurry," Amanda told her, worrying her lip with her teeth. "I don't like you out there."

Liv nodded, covered her face to her nose with her scarf, and double-checked her own holster. Then she gripped the kettle, and opened the door, stepping out into the howling wind. The door shut, and she was alone.

Snow was drifted up one side of the car, obscuring the passenger side altogether. Olivia followed tight to the wall of the cabin, rounded the corner, and hugged the wall until she got to the end of the building at the back. Tipping up the kettle, she marked a blood red line in the snow where she broke away from the cabin, and blinked to disperse the snowflakes dusted over her eyelashes, peering into the squall, looking for the faded grey clapboard signalling the shed.

When she saw it, she started in the direction, planting her feet heavily in the snow as she went, not wanting to risk falling. Marking her path with quick, long swings of her arm, she trudged forward, focused, and hopeful that the trip wouldn't be for nothing.

Inside the cabin, Amanda stood at the window in the small, cold bedroom and strained to see what she could.

.

.

The door to the shed gave way with a creak of brittle wood, and let down a cloud of dust in protest as Olivia shouldered inside. She waited to catch her breath, pulling off her scarf to shake the snow from it as her eyes adjusted to the change in light.

Stuffing her mitts into the pocket of her coat, she pulled her cell phone from the other. She had made decent time – if the trip back could be any faster, she might even beat the hour estimate. There was still no signal to be found, but that was no surprise. Liv tapped on her flashlight and looked around.

Jackpot: Half the back wall of the shed was stacked with cut wood, and she felt a ripple of relief go through her body. The middle of the space was taken up with a small work table, which was a mess of different items like nails, sandpaper, cigarette butts, and what looked like vintage glass bottles.

Stepping further inside, she shined the light higher, noticing a few wooden shelves on the wall. They held more odd, mismatched flea market items such as old encyclopaedias, kitschy knickknacks and what looked like a taxidermy squirrel. More shelves on the opposite wall had fishing equipment, and a sign that proclaimed, _'If you can't shoot it, stuff it, or marry it, it's not worth it.'_

"Quaint," Liv whispered with a snort. Then something on the floor, leaned against the wall caught her eye, causing her to lunge forward and exclaim in delight. "Yes, yes!" She grabbed up a pair of snowshoes – the old-fashioned, wooden type - inspecting them to see how solid they were

They were indisputably in one piece, and they spurred her to get to work. She moved quickly then, piling as much wood as she thought she could pull onto a plastic tarp she found balled up in a corner. Clearing a space on the work table, Liv stockpiled a few things that she thought could come in handy, and hunted for something she could wrap them in.

Her flashlight fell on something so unexpected that her face broke into a wide smile, utterly removed from her strange situation. Wiping dust from the top of the box, she giggled. "Oh my Lord! How many years since I saw one of these?"

 _The Dukes of Hazzard Game_ in faded yellow letters announced the board game on the cover, surrounded by stylized images of the cast members. With a nostalgic laugh, she looked it over, then lifted the cover and threw in her pile of useful items. She nestled the box between two pieces of wood on the tarp, already thinking about teaching Amanda how to play.

It took long minutes to get her feet strapped securely into the snowshoes, after she had moved the tarp to the ground just outside the door. Finally, though, she was ready to journey back. Making sure the shed door wouldn't blow open, she laid the kettle on the tarp pile, pulled the two tarp corners into her mittened fists, and started yanking.

It took a minute to get enough momentum for the plastic to slide smoothly, as the weight helped flatten the uneven snow beneath. Olivia searched for her red streaks in the snow and set off in the direction of the cabin's back wall.

**TBC**


	4. Dukes and Hazards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just as a brief fyi, The Dukes of Hazzard board game is available on Amazon, ebay and Etsy. I really hope that reference is not out of the age range of basically 98% of my readers. Lol 
> 
> Rating: T, this chapter
> 
> Spoilers: None
> 
> Trigger warnings: isolation, survivalism, weapons

From the outside looking in, one could imagine that Amanda and Olivia were merely on some strange, mid-winter getaway: the fire in the stove was stoked to a blaze, and the cabin had finally warmed up enough for them to take off jackets, hats, mittens. Seated across from each other, the _Dukes of Hazzard_ game board spread between them, they were comfortable and smiling for the first time since leaving New York.

"No, no - you have to start on the _dirt_ road after you leave the gas station!" Liv giggled.

"Well maybe, if you stopped _blockin_ ' me, I could focus on remembering the rules," Amanda complained, moving her car on the board.

"I still can't believe you've never played!"

"I can't believe you had a thing for Luke Duke," Amanda retorted, watching Liv roll the dice.

"You preferred Bo, I take it?"

She shrugged. "I just wanted to be Daisy Duke, runnin' around with the boys."

Olivia was struck by an image of Rollins, in Daisy Dukes, with her wavy blonde hair spilling from under a cowboy hat, and she found herself blushing furiously.

"Doubt I'da done it in heels, though," Rollins added, taking her turn. Sitting back after she'd moved her piece, she pushed up the sleeves of her sweater and said, "What I really remember though, is how much my Daddy loved the show. Y'know, it was over by the time I was five, so what I mostly saw was reruns, but . . . I'd climb up on his lap, and he would hold me the whole time. I loved it when he'd laugh."

Her gaze was distant, remembering. "It was the one time I almost felt like we were a normal family. I sat with daddy and Kim would sit on the floor in front'a the couch, and pretend like she understood the jokes." Amanda rolled the dice and went again, landing on a Dukes card space. "Did you know," she said, as Liv passed her the card, "that the first five episodes were filmed like 20 minutes from Loganville?"

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. It was before I was born, of course, but Daddy took us out to Covington and Conyers when we got older. Real tourist attraction," she chuckled. " _'No police cars in sight! Go Again,'_ " she read off the card. "Figures – never a cop around in the South unless they're up to no good," she smirked, grabbing the dice.

Olivia had made it back from the shed just in the nick of time, to find Amanda pacing the floor in tight lines and looking at the time on her cell phone every second beat. The blonde had looked up when the door opened, ready to snap at her for pushing it so close, but was struck speechless at the sight of Liv on antique snowshoes, dragging a plastic tarp like a cracked version of Yukon Cornelius.

" _Dukes_ was an escape for me, too," Liv confessed. "My mother was, uh, too 'cultured,' for it, and didn't want me watching it at home. So I had to come up with an excuse to be at a friend's house when it was on. I mean, she probably figured it out at some point, but thankfully, she let me get away with it."

Olivia took her turn, also landing on a Dukes card space. She flipped a card and read aloud, " _'Daisy throws you a kiss. Go Again.'_ " Amanda met Liv's gaze when she looked up, blew her a kiss and winked.

Liv's heart rate rose, ever so slightly, and the realization left her thunderstruck. "How's your head doing?" she asked, switching the subject.

"I'll live," Rollins shrugged.

"Any more headaches?"

"It comes and goes, but no worse."

"You can take an Aspirin tonight, before we sleep, if you want," Liv reminded her.

"I'm tryin' to concentrate on kickin' your ass, here," Rollins replied, gesturing for the dice. "Focus!"

"Yeah, okay – good luck," Liv snorted.

Outside in the dark, the snow was slowing down as it got colder.

.

.

The next morning when Liv awoke, the first thing she noticed was that the fire was nearly out. Banked embers were hissing softly, but the cabin was still warm enough to be comfortable. It also didn't hurt that she and Amanda had slept against each other, under both blankets.

The next thing she noticed was how silent it was. She blinked and struggled to peer in the direction of the window. No howling, no sound of hail and grit hitting the window and then racing upward like innumerable tiny claws across tile. Silence. A thrill ran through Olivia, at the thought of getting back on track, so, as much as she felt an unfamiliar and curious pull to stay under the blankets with Amanda, she got moving.

Rollins stirred, but stayed asleep, as Liv stoked the fire and got it going again. Once she had changed and freshened up, Liv tidied up their bags and the items that had come from the car. Gathering up what little garbage they had, she tossed it into the stove, then put on her boots, bundled up and opened the front door.

Across the snow's surface, the sun was throwing infinite sparkles. The morning was like a mirage of perfection in contrast to the days they had just passed: the sky was cloudless and idyllically blue, and somewhere in the treeline a crow was cawing inquisitively. The trees were laden with heavy snow, and for just a beat, some secret corner of Olivia's heart dreamed of a simple life in a place where she was standing, playing games with Amanda.

She took a deep, sharp breath of the frigid air, which was what urged her into moving again. If they were to get anywhere, the car would have to be dug out of its half-buried space. She hadn't had any luck finding a shovel in the shed, but, she had been mostly rushing, so a second look was probably a good idea.

Inside, Rollins was still sleeping, and Liv didn't have the heart to wake her. It would still be hours before they might be able to get back to the car, and sleeping was better than having her worried or insisting on helping shovel. Liv threw wood on the fire, took the snowshoes and strapped into them just outside the door, then started back to the shed.

.

.

The tiny, high windows in the shed were too dirty to let in much of the bright sun, so Liv left the door open when she stepped inside. Fresh air fused to the smell of rusted iron and cut wood as she began poking around more thoroughly. The taxidermy squirrel seemed to eye her progress as she peered under assortments of collected junk, thinking what could substitute as a decent shovel, should she not find one.

As is usually the way, she spied it in the very last spot – a corner near the wood pile, dark with shadows and practically hidden. She crouched down, wiping it off slightly with her mitten. "Perfect," she exhaled with relief.

Olivia pushed to her feet with the shovel in both hands, and that was when she heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun priming.

"Let go of the shovel, and turn around with both hands up," the voice attached to the gun barked. "Don't try to be smart, or you'll be dead."

The shovel fell to the sawdust-covered floor with a muted _fwump_ and Liv put her mittened hands up, turning slowly, her stomach hollow with fear. In the doorway was a woman about Liv's height, a knitted wool beanie pulled down over her ears, and wearing a heavy, red plaid lumberman's jacket beneath a zip-up vest.

"Who the fuck are you, and what are you doin' in Vince's shed?" she snapped.

"I'm Olivia Benson," Liv replied calmly, "and I got stranded during the storm. The cabin was the first shelter I found."

"Storm ain't got shit to do with you sneakin' around the shed."

"The wood stove - there wasn't enough inside," she explained. "My rental car is snowed in, and I came back to look for a shovel."

The woman seemed to turn this over in her head. She looked Liv up and down, then motioned to the snowshoes on Liv's feet. "Plannin' on stealing those?"

"No, of course not. It was just the fastest way to get to and from the shed in the snow."

She narrowed her gaze and rolled her eyes. "From a big city, I take it. My name is Rhoda; I watch the property for Vince. He owns the place." Liv took an easier breath, feeling her chest loosen a little, even though Rhoda didn't lower the gun. "I wanna believe you, but I ain't stupid. You show me the inside of the cabin, and if everything seems alright, I'll help you with your car."

Olivia's hands tightened inside her mittens, the fear rising again as she thought of Amanda on the couch.

"C'mon, march," Rhoda demanded, "I want you in front'a me. Let's go."

Liv took a shaky breath and moved to the doorway, then back out into what had been her idyllic day. Snow crunched beneath Rhoda's heavy workboots as she stepped down behind the brunette, shutting the shed door and urging her forward with a poke of the gun barrel into her back.

_Please, Amanda,_ Liv prayed, _please be up and paying attention_. The prayer became a litany that she repeated as they got closer and closer to the cabin's front door.

They reached the front step, and Rhoda told her to unstrap the snowshoes. She sent Liv up the step ahead of her, then stepped up behind her so close that it sent Liv stumbling heavily through the front door.

Her prayers had evidently landed in God's queue, as Rollins was sitting on the couch with one of the blankets over her shoulders, gazing into the fire, her back to the door.

"Who the hell - !" Rhoda exclaimed, taken aback by the collection of luggage, a new person, and the _Dukes_ game on the table. She jabbed Liv with the gun again, pushing her toward the couch as Amanda whirled to look at the two women, her face a study in panicked confusion.

"Put your fucking hands up!" Rhoda screamed at Rollins, who obeyed immediately, the blanket falling away from her shoulders.

Liv moved closer to Amanda, instinctually protective. "Hey – Rhoda. Hey," she said, trying to halt the anger brewing in the woman., "it's okay."

"It is not fuckin' okay! Look at you two, like squatters, luggage and all! You even moved the Christing furniture!"

Now, Liv was standing just in front of the back of the couch. On the other side was Amanda, near the stove. "Rhoda - "

"Stop. Talking," the woman gritted out, and the cold in her tone made Olivia's mouth snap shut. "You lied to me. Not to even mention that Vince is going to have me hanged. Usin' his wood. Moving his stuff." She gestured to the game on the table. " _Stealin_ '. Jesus. Now, I'm going to give you one chance to tell me who the hell blondie is."

Rhoda leveled the gun at Liv and raised her eyebrows. Without looking at Amanda, who was staring at Liv expectantly, Liv blurted, "She's my wife."

**TBC**


	5. Breathless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I just wanted to note that I tend to avoid writing in Liv and/or Amanda's kids unless absolutely necessary. I just find it easier to write it that way, it's nothing personal against the characters. Sorry if it is a thorn in anyone's side. I love and appreciate all of your support! PS - Buckle the fuck up!
> 
> Rating: T, this chapter
> 
> Spoilers: None
> 
> Trigger warnings: isolation, hostage taking, weapons

Rhoda blinked at the two strangers, momentarily dumbfounded. "Yer wife?" she echoed. "Only if I'm a goddamn fairy godmother!"

"I didn't lie to you, Rhoda," Olivia insisted. "We were on the way into Adrian, we had car trouble on the highway, and we ended up here. All we were doing was keeping warm, and passing the time – no intention to steal anything. I promise you."

Liv had more to worry about than why her subconscious had blurted out 'wife' before friend, or sister. She was more concerned about making sure Rhoda didn't see either of their handguns.

"Where're your wedding rings, then?" Rhoda demanded.

Liv looked at her left hand for barely a second, then said, "We're not very traditional. For obvious reasons."

This seemed to give Rhoda pause, but not enough to distract her from holding them at gunpoint. "Oh? Guess the big cities are not the paradise they say they are. Still . . ." she eyed them again, looking them both over, " . . . prove it."

Liv physically jerked back, as if struck. She blanched, made herself take a deep breath in order to speak without stuttering. "Excuse me?" her voice was an unsteady whisper.

The look on Rhoda's face had changed. There was still volatile anger, but also now a sort of perverse mirth. She levelled the gun again, shrugging. "I think you heard me."

Olivia didn't have the luxury of taking time to explain to Rollins, or apologize. The last thing she wanted to do was piss Rhoda off any further than she already had. So, without thinking further, Liv rounded the end of the couch, and stepped up to Amanda, trying to seem as natural as possible. Taking both of Amanda's hands in hers, she pulled her in and kissed her.

Amanda's hands were cold; they felt delicate beneath Liv's mittens, and she gently rubbed over them, without even realizing that she was doing it. The kiss, however, was not cold, no – it was searing. It shot straight through Olivia from lips to pulse points, to her groin, where it grew ever hotter. Amanda was leaning in to the kiss, opening her mouth and letting Olivia in as if they really had done this a thousand times before someone held a gun to her head.

Suddenly Liv wasn't sure that the shotgun was the scariest thing in the room anymore.

When the kiss finally broke, Amanda's blue eyes were wide, but not with fear or uncertainty as Liv had expected. Instead, her gaze seemed exhilarated and almost . . . relieved?

"I guess you two are still newlyweds," Rhoda quipped, breaking into the two women's thoughts with an amused chuckle.

"Right," Liv nodded, switching gears back to negotiations, "now, why not put the gun down, Rhoda, and we can talk?" Olivia's stomach dropped as Rhoda shook her head.

"No – nah, it's not that simple. I need'ta think! I gotta sort this mess so that Vince doesn't skin my hide over it." She jerked her chin in the direction of the bedroom that was just behind where the two were standing. "C'mon, lovebirds; my arms need a rest."

She started towards them, and Liv started moving backward, pulling Rollins with her, still hand in hand. When they were both in the room together, Rhoda slammed the door shut and there was a brief racket as she pushed the sofa across and in front of the door.

Liv let out an agitated sigh, turning to Amanda in apologetic embarrassment. "God, Amanda – I am _so_ sorry! I – I just blurted out the first thing without thinking of what I was saying. What a fucking mess on top of what we were already in! This is _unbelievable!_ "

She paced to burn off some of her anxiety, and Rollins watched her for a moment. "Look," she finally said, "I don't mean to make a shitty situation worse, but – "

Liv stopped pacing to look at her.

"Who _are_ you? And how the hell did we get here, wherever 'here' is?"

.

.

Even as the floor seemed to be tipping out from under her, Olivia thought she would be waking up from this nightmare, any moment. The room spun as she peered at her partner.

"Amanda. That's not funny."

"I'm not tryin' to be funny; that crazy fool has a shotgun – why would I be makin'a joke?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Amanda – are you serious?!" Liv breathed, stepping up to her and reaching immediately to brush blonde hair away from her head wound.

"I'm dead serious. I mean, I'm not entirely complaining, but, I know for damn sure I ain't never been married, so I doubt you're my wife."

Olivia clutched her by the biceps and looked straight into her blue eyes, desperately restraining herself from shaking her. "Amanda! You're . . . oh God, I mean I'm – " She stopped, closed her eyes, licked her lips and tried again, her heart racing high in her throat. "We work together. I'm Olivia. Benson. We've worked together for _four years!_ "

"In Georgia?"

"No! No, in Manhattan," Liv corrected.

"Manhattan? But I've never been to New York," the blonde mumbled, obviously alarmed.

Liv led Rollins to the bed and sat her down gently. "Listen to me for a second. You came up from Atlanta, four years ago, to join Manhattan SVU. That's how we met. And we flew out here, to go to Adrian, on a serial rape case." She took off one of her mittens, took Amanda's wrist, touched for her pulse. "But we fishtailed on the highway in the middle of a storm. When you went to check the tires, someone hit you in the head, and you passed out."

Olivia was struck by a wave of guilt strong enough to make her sway on her feet.

Amanda touched the lump on her forehead curiously. "I was wonderin' about that," she told her.

"I took the first road I saw and we ended up here. The storm just cleared this morning, after being here for two nights. I went to find a shovel, and that's when Rhoda appeared." Liv used her thumb to pull up Rollins' eyelids, looking at her pupils. "Do you have a headache right now?"

"No."

"Did you take any more Aspirin when you woke up?" Rollins shook her head, and Liv put her face in her hands, overwhelmed. "Jesus. What are we going to do? I'm sure Fin and Carisi probably have the National Guard out by now, but there hasn't been a cell signal out here, and it's not exactly easy to find."

"Who and who?"

"Fin and – " Olivia trailed off and frowned. "Detectives that we work with. Nevermind that for right now. Tell me what you remember, Amanda. Do you remember anything about me? About before you woke up here?"

"Well, yeah . . . I mean, I know who ** _I_** am. Where I grew up, my parents, my schools. My sister. It's what you say happened after Georgia that doesn't make any sense."

Liv fumbled her cell phone from her jacket pocket and unlocked it, opening her gallery. She swiped to a few pictures from around the office. "Here, see? This is you and I . . . our office. This is Finn, and Dominic Carisi?"

Rollins took the phone into her hand and looked at the pictures, bewildered. "No. Olivia, I'm sorry, I just – I don't have any memories of any of this."

The exhausted brunette took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the bed next to Amanda. "Ok, listen. I know that this is a terrible situation to wake up to, and I know you have no reason right now to trust me, but Amanda, I need you to give me the benefit of the doubt. I think the injury to your head is worse than we realized, and I promise you that once I get us out of here and to a hospital, things will get back to normal. Do you understand?"

"I think so. I mean, as much as I'm able, I guess," Rollins admitted.

"Good, because we've got bigger problems right now," Liv sighed.

"What do you mean?"

The brunette gestured toward the door. "I have no idea how she got here. I didn't see another vehicle when she walked me to the front door, and the storm only just let up this morning – I have a hard time believing that she came on foot without snowshoes."

She stood up again, putting hands to hips. "She said she watches the property, but look at this place: everything we found is in disrepair, empty, or hasn't seen use in years. Except for the woodbox, which is also strange. Not to mention, why would she bring a shotgun if she was expecting an empty cabin buried in snow?"

Rollins considered this, her brows furrowed in concern. "So what're you thinkin' She came to loot the place? She actually squats here herself?"

"I don't know. I don't know," she muttered, crossing to the window. "All I know is, it doesn't feel right."

Amanda looked back down at the phone still in her hand, at the pictures of herself so bizarre and unnerving.

"I just know we have to get out of here," Olivia told her.

.

.

"Jesus, I'm so hungry," Rollins sighed, her hand over her midsection.

"I know, I'm sorry," Liv acknowledged. They hadn't eaten since the previous night during the board game, when they had split crackers and some beef jerky.

"It's been quiet out there, now, for a while – do you think she fell asleep?"

"No," she replied, looking out the window. "I think she's here for a reason, and I don't think she would sabotage it by sleeping."

The day had grown long inside the little room. For a while, Liv passed the time by quizzing Amanda on what she knew, both about herself and about everything else, hoping against the odds that it would help trigger something to return things to normal. Once that proved to be only wishful thinking, they turned to discussing viable options for getting out of the room.

The bedroom window was out – it was just a single pane of glass, so it would have to be broken, for starters, which was risky for multiple reasons. Realistically, that left either distracting Rhoda, or instigating a standoff. They did have two guns to her one, but the chances of both of them getting away without getting wounded in the process were slim. It wasn't a risk Olivia was willing to take.

So they were back to biding their time. By the time shadows were getting long across the drifts of snow, and the sun was sinking in the sky, Olivia had just about run out of patience. Crossing to the door, she made a fist and began pounding. It made Amanda jump as it split the quiet, her eyes going wide.

"Rhoda! Rhoda, come here!" She waited, listening. "We won't be any good to you if you leave us in here, thirsty and starving! Open the door!"

To Rollins' utter amazement, they heard the sound of Rhoda coming across the cabin. The door did open then, but just a crack. "Do you ever shut the fuck up?" she hissed.

"Rhoda - we've barely had anything to eat in two days. We need water. We need the washroom. You can't expect to leave us in here with nothing. Please," Liv added, forcing herself to sound supplicant, "you're in control. We've been quiet for hours."

The pregnant pause that followed seemed interminable. Finally, without saying anything, Rhoda shut the door again, shuffling away.

"Well . . . you tried," Amanda said as Liv hung her head.

But then the footsteps were approaching again. Rhoda opened the door about ten inches, and the next thing that happened was, the two quilts from the couch were stuffed through the space and dropped to the floor. Then she passed Olivia one of the bags from the table. "Food," she said. "There's a bottle of water in there. And – " she passed in an empty bucket, "washroom. Now leave me the fuck alone."

Shocked, Olivia stood there as the door slammed shut again.

Amanda told her, "One thing at a time."

.

.

Then, night fell, and the dark swallowed them inside the four wooden walls. Closed off from the wood stove's heat, the room grew ever colder. After a hushed, strenuous argument, Liv had convinced Amanda to take her jacket and mitts. To compromise, she kept her hat and scarf. Stretched out on the narrow mattress, Amanda was wrapped in one of the quilts, all her energy focused on not shivering.

"You should try to sleep," Liv said gently.

"Too cold . . . to sleep," she chattered.

Olivia sighed. "Here," she got up and repositioned, stretching out alongside Rollins. Facing each other, she threw the second quilt over both their bodies, then rubbed briskly over Amanda's arm and shoulders, generating more heat.

"Thanks," the blonde mumbled, smiling tiredly. "What are we gonna do, Olivia?"

"You never call me Olivia," she chuckled. "Call me Liv. I'll figure something out. I promise."

"Liv?"

"Mm?"

"When I get to the hospital, and they figure out what to do to help me . . . do you think I'll forget all this?"

"I - I'm not sure. It's possible. A blessing in disguise, maybe?"

"Not . . . entirely," Rollins hedged. "I would prefer to remember that kiss."

Adrenaline warbled through Olivia's body in surprise and apprehension. Amanda couldn't even remember who Liv was right now, and before that, the two had never even discussed any attraction to women – let alone each other. The kiss was polluted with guilt, in Liv's opinion, with lack of consent and lack of recognition. What was she supposed to say? The weight of its complexity was incredible, and Olivia felt breathless.

Rollins' azure eyes were searching Olivia's curiously. "If I wanted you to kiss me again, after this is all over – would you?"

Liv caught her breath, glancing at the blonde's lips, remembering the taste of her, the warmth. "Yes," she exhaled.

"Promise?"

_She'll be fine_ , Liv thought, _back to her old self, she won't remember a thing_. "Promise," Liv whispered.

After all, it seemed like such a safe promise.

**TBC**


	6. Lose a Turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M
> 
> Spoilers: None
> 
> Trigger warnings: Physical assault, isolation

She wakes her as soon as the dawn is light enough to be able to see safely across the drifting snow. A finger pressed to her lips keeps Rollins from speaking aloud, and they communicate in tense gestures. Olivia points to the window, where she had spent most of the night, the butt of her gun wrapped in a section of a quilt, methodically and soundlessly breaking the glass into manageable pieces. There was a gaping hole now, all the shards cleared, letting in the frozen air.

Handing Amanda the bag Rhoda had passed in hours before, she indicated the water bottle was inside. She rolled up one of the quilts and stuffed it in as well. In front of the space where they would bid their escape, Olivia whispered four words into the shell of Amanda's ear:

_"Go for the car."_

The blonde nodded. Liv boosted her up and through the broken window, waiting just long enough to hear the crunch of feet sinking into unmarked snow, before she tossed the bag out to Amanda. Then Olivia echoed the motion, landing on her feet in the snow alongside Rollins. The temperature was bitter – a raw cold that immediately sank through the thin layers of clothing Liv had on, now that Amanda had the jacket.

Liv took her gun from her holster, nodded at Amanda, and then they were moving, headed around the corner and to the front of the cabin.

She wasn't entirely sure what they were going to do if the car hadn't been dug out of the snow, but a hunch in Liv's gut had told her it would be, somehow. The sun was getting incrementally brighter as they fought their way through the snow as quietly as they could. Long minutes creeped by before the back of the car was in view.

"Driver's side," she whispered to Amanda, in case the other door really was still under snow. Looking along the front of the cabin, Liv noted the front door was closed. Straining to hear if there was any noise coming from inside, she stopped Rollins with a hand.

She held up three fingers.

Two fingers.

One.

They both ran for the car, with Amanda diving for the door handle. She launched into the car, scrambling over the armrest and into the passenger seat as Olivia fell in behind. Neither of them spoke, both out of breath, as Liv fished the spare key from the center console and jammed it into the ignition.

_Please, God_ , she begged. _Please_.

The slam of the car door had started a commotion from inside the cabin, and Olivia held her breath, waiting for the engine to turn over before Rhoda appeared in the doorway with the shotgun. It sputtered once, then came to life, to Liv's relief. Yanking it into reverse, she stomped on the gas and they swung backwards just as they heard Rhoda start yelling from inside.

"You fucking bitches!"

The door to the cabin swung open, but it was too late. The car was already back in drive, and Liv was pulling into the lane that would take them back out to the highway. Her foot hardly lifted from the floor, gunning it over the snow-covered path towards something – anything, other than where they'd been.

Obsessive glances in the rear-view mirror assured the girls that Rhoda wasn't trying to follow them. In record time, the lane widened out to meet their turn back to life before that fishtail. Olivia had to keep herself from nearly squealing with delight when the car zoomed back onto the highway.

"Rollins, get my cell from my jacket pocket, and tell me as soon as you get a signal!" she directed.

Amanda did as told, holding the phone in two hands, trembling slightly as she waited for a notification to ding or a network to connect. Liv was sure the phone would be flooded with a hundred of them – missed calls and texts from Fin and Carisi, by now losing their minds she had no doubt.

Everything that Liv had been able to ignore while in the cabin hit her all at once: how hungry she was, how sleep-deprived, her fear and concern over Rollins' head trauma. Her hands began to tremble, and she hoped that Amanda wouldn't notice right away. After several beats, however, she registered that the wheel was trembling, not just her hands. Her gaze flicked to the gauge panel, her heart freezing with terror as she remembered the swerving that got them where they were.

All it took was a bump on the warming, snow-covered highway: the steering column no longer stable, the wheel jerked from her grip as the car whipped into a death wobble. Before either of the women could think to speak, the car left the highway and plowed into the deep drifts of snow left by the storm, where it laboured to a stop with back wheels spinning.

Neither of them had a chance to don a seatbelt in their escape, and Olivia's chest had impacted the steering wheel in the jerk of leaving the road. She hadn't blacked out, but she saw dark stars in her vision as her head spun. The silent, cold morning had been split with the sound of hissing, dripping, and the creak of metal as the car settled in the snow.

Liv blinked slowly several times, nervous to turn her head in case of neck injury. "Amanda, you ok?" she asked.

"I – I think so," the blonde stammered back.

Liv continued to self-assess, carefully moving toes, feet, legs. When she finally felt safe enough to move, she pulled the driver's side door handle, pushing the door with her shoulder. It didn't budge. Anxiously, she tried again, shoving harder.

A creak of metal. Then nothing.

" _Fuck_ ," she breathed, " _fuck!_ "

She glanced across to the passenger door, but already knew that side of the car was pressed deeply into the snow – too deep to open the door. _What the hell are we going to do now?_ she thought.

Mind racing, Liv took a couple of deep breaths and tried to come up with their next plan. Minutes ticked by, maybe ten minutes all told, with her head pressed back against the headrest, when there was another noise. Not a tick or creak that an out of commission car makes. It was the sound of snow, crunching under footsteps.

The face that appeared outside her window was that of a middle-aged man, clean cut, with cheeks pinked by the cold. "Are you alright?" he asked, loud enough for it to muffle through the glass.

"Mostly!" Liv nodded. "Do you – can you get the door open?"

He took a step back, looking over the door. "I dunno - it's dented right through the door jamb!" Frustrated, Liv sighed, nodded. "Just . . . hang on," he motioned then, stepping away from the window, along the side of the car where she could no longer see him.

It was Rhoda's face, twisted with anger and mocking amusement that next appeared. Grinning as she raised the butt of her shotgun above her head, she called, "I bet you missed me!" as she brought the polished wood down in a flash.

Was it perhaps a macabre blessing that there wasn't enough time for Olivia to panic?

She had just enough time to swivel her head away from the rain of glass that shattered inward, shards landing as haphazard sparkles, catching the light.

"It's okay," Rhoda said, "I missed you, too."

The second time, the butt of the gun came down into Liv's face.

Then, there was just the darkness.

.

.

What next brought Olivia to the surface of consciousness was the feeling of Amanda's hands, sliding in gentle, short caresses down the middle of her back. Immediately overpowering that realization was pain, mostly in her head but also in her chest. The pain was the deep, dull ache of bruises left to swell unattended, and Liv tried to raise a hand to inspect the injuries, discovering her hands were bound together.

With great effort, she rolled over so that she and Amanda were facing each other. "How bad is it?" she asked, looking at the blonde through bleary, unfocused eyes.

"Not great," Rollins husked out, worrying her lip with her teeth as she looked over the older woman's face. "You have a gash that probably needs a couple stitches. The eye below it is pretty swollen, and you have a split lip."

"My head is roaring," Liv mumbled.

"She hit you pretty hard."

"Are you ok? Did they hurt you?" Liv asked, moving her hands in front of her, feebly trying to touch Amanda to reassure herself.

"I'm alright," she drawled softly, "I was too worried about you to kick up a fight after Rhoda clocked you."

There were so many things Olivia wanted to ask, but the static-y noise of her head was exhausting, her body heavy from trauma. Where were they? Back at the cabin? Where had Rhoda and the man gone? Was Rollins really okay, or just protecting her?

"Hey - don't go to sleep," the blonde said urgently, "we can't have both of us not knowing what the hell is goin' on."

Liv forced herself to keep her good eye open. "Tell me everything that you remember, from the time I blacked out."

Slowly, Amanda relayed the events – how Rhoda and the male had dragged Olivia from the car beached in the snow drift, then used the shotgun to encourage her to follow suit. From there, they had travelled in the covered pan of a pickup truck, for maybe twenty-five minutes, in the opposite direction than they had been traveling on the highway.

They had been hurried inside of what looked like another cabin, and left locked in another room, hands bound, on another nondescript bedframe with mattress. The only bright sides were, they hadn't been further assaulted, and they weren't cold anymore.

"What about our guns?"

"They took them."

"So they know we're cops?"

"I think they just figure we're gun fans, but I can't imagine that will last too long, if they're going back to ransack the car."

Olivia felt sick and guilty and fresh out of imaginative escape plans. She licked her dry lips and said, "Is it just me, or did the guy look familiar?"

"You mean, other than the likelihood that he's Rhoda's 'Vince'?"

"Yeah."

"Not to me – but I don't think that holds up right now," Rollins chuckled.

"I definitely feel like I've seen him before," Liv repeated, struggling to conjure up his face and remember.

Somewhere in the cabin, the two women heard a door slam, and then the distinct sound of shouting over the clomp of heavy boots. Both of them turned their heads to the room's door and strained to listen.

**TBC**


	7. Numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T, this chapter
> 
> Spoilers: Vague ones for the beginning of Season 13, big one for "Amaro's One-Eighty" (S15E11)
> 
> Trigger warnings: captivity, isolation, needles, weapons, coercion

Fin looked up from the computer screen he was using, and eyed Carisi circumspectly. The tall, younger man was pacing the floor aggressively with no sign of stopping.

"Carisi, you gotta chill, before you catch the tiles on fire," he told him.

"Three days, Fin," Sonny responded. "This is unbelievable! How can there be no sign, no clues, no cell phone signals for nearly three days?!"

"I imagine that snowstorm had a lot to do with it," Fin reminded him, "and Adrian, Michigan is not exactly Brooklynn - there's a lot more trees, snow and nowhere here."

Sonny stopped pacing and took a deep breath. "I'm just worried." He put his hands on his hips. "There should'a been some sign of them by now, _if_ they aren't in trouble, is all."

"Never underestimate Liv," Fin advised, continuing to search the map that filled the PC screen. "She's no stranger to trouble."

The Adrian PD had been nothing but cooperative since Fin and Carisi's arrival the previous afternoon. When news of the storm clearing reached the one-six, they had remained unsuccessful in locating a signal on either of the girls' cell phones, so the two men had left New York on the first flight that was cleared to land in Detroit. They knew that the two women hadn't checked in to any hotels or motels, nor had they made contact with the victim in the case, or the precinct in Adrian.

"That doesn't make me feel better, to be honest," Sonny sighed. He leaned over Fin's shoulder, looking at the map. "What'cha got?"

"I'm studyin' the route they would'a had to take from Detroit to here," Fin pointed, "tryin ' to think where they could'a gone, if they left the road."

"Or were taken from the road."

Fin half-nodded in reluctant acknowledgment.

.

.

"How much easier do I have to make things for you, Ro?! All you had to do was keep them in one place!"

"How was I supposed to know – " Rhoda started, but the man cut her off.

"Because that's what you're here for!" he shouted, "I can't do every fucking job around here!"

The clomping of boots stopped, and from the room, Olivia could hear the sound of a wood stove being opened, the fire being stoked. "Now we got a broken window, a car buried in a heap'a snow, and both of them – " the man gestured vaguely at his face with one hand "needin' work."

Rhoda chose to err on the side of staying quiet.

Finally, the man turned to her again. "So? Do you think you can handle that much? Or do I need to find myself some new help?"

"I got it," Rhoda answered flatly. "Just gimme a little time."

"Time and patience are in short supply," the man warned, "so move your ass."

With that, the sound of Rhoda's steps started in the direction of the room. Olivia pressed herself into Rollins protectively, neither of them sure what to expect. But the Rhoda who entered the room was not the same at all. The shotgun was gone, replaced by a case she was carrying in both hands. She looked tired, and worn, rather than angry.

She laid the case on top of a bedside table, then drew up a wooden chair from under the window to the side of the bed. "Time to roll over," she said dully, without specifying which one of them she meant.

Still keeping close to Rollins, Olivia rolled to her back and looked at Rhoda through her one good eye, the other one finally more shut than open. Glancing down at the kit , she could see syringes, vials of ombre liquid, some other medical supplies.

"What are you doing, Rhoda?" she asked hoarsely.

The woman was peering at a bottle that she was drawing dosage from, into a syringe. "You need stitches," she answered matter-of-factly.

"What's in the bottle?"

"Lidocaine. Better than getting stitched without it, trust me."

"How do I know it's not just poison?"

Rhoda snorted. "You think we would go through all the trouble to drag you two back here if all we wanted was to poison you?"

The casual implication of worse things to come made Olivia's blood chill in her veins.

Sighing, Rhoda put down the needle and opened up an alcohol swab. "C'mon. I used to be a nurse, I'm not going to hurt you any more than I have to. Let me see your head."

Not that there was much choice to be had, Liv turned her aching head towards the woman who had injured her face to begin with. She winced as Rhoda used the swab to clean the dried blood from her forehead, and the edges of the gash.

"You used to be a nurse?" Liv repeated, "Why aren't you one anymore?"

Rhoda frowned faintly as she brought the syringe to Liv's head. "It's a long story that I'd rather not get into," she muttered. "Little pinch, here," she warned, and then began to numb the area.

Olivia concentrated on keeping Rhoda talking, rather than the medical attention to her head. "That man out there – is that Vince?"

"Yeah." She opened a swaged ** _**_** suture needle and scooted her chair closer. "Don't move, now."

So far, she was telling the truth. Olivia's forehead had numbed, and so the stitching was merely a thick, strange sensation against her skin. Rhoda worked quickly, putting in five efficient stitches, proving that her nurse confession was also true. When she was done, she covered her work with a couple strips of medical tape.

"Thank you," Liv told her quietly.

"If you hadn't taken off, you wouldn't'a needed 'em in the first place," she said resentfully.

"We don't know what you want with us," Liv said, as if it was somehow an apology.

Rhoda ignored it. "Hey Blondie," she called, "let me take a look at yer head." She stood up, peering beyond Liv.

"My name is Amanda," Rollins told her.

"Lucky for you – _Amanda_ \- I didn't hit you as hard. No stitches, but I'll get you both something to swallow painkillers with." With that, she packed up her kit and was gone again.

"So she's the one who hit you," Liv exhaled, trying to put things together in her mind. "Which means . . . this was probably orchestrated from the start. It's pretty clear this is not the first time they've worked together."

"Also pretty clear that Vince is the one in charge," Rollins put in, "- you remember where you know him from?"

"No, not yet," Liv admitted, her blackened eye aching, her stomach rumbling for food. "She didn't let on that they know anything about us being cops, if they know."

"Maybe no one's gone back to the car yet. I don't get the impression that looting is their big concern."

"I'm not so sure," Liv mused, "I'm thinking the other cabin is a front, like a – a staging area," she explained, rolling back to face Amanda. She searched the blonde's fatigued blue eyes.

"You think they wanna kill us?" she asked, her voice flat and unconcerned.

"I don't plan on letting anything else happen to you," was Olivia's answer.

" 'The best laid plans," Rollins recited, smiling sadly, "of mice and men . . .' "

* * *

_**_ _An eyeless, curved needle with a length of suture thread already attached_

* * *

.

.

Rhoda had returned with soup, sandwiches and ibuprofen, and Olivia couldn't remember a time she had been so happy to see food from a can. Once the soup and hot tea had warmed them, and the painkillers started working, their bodies took a needed escape from the adrenaline of fight or flight, and they began talking quietly.

"So, we've worked together for four years?" Rollins looked at Olivia pointedly.

"Yes. Well," Liv stumbled, "not just the two of us, for four years – but in the same squad."

"Do I – have I . . . been doing well?" It felt very strange to ask questions about herself, from outside of her own life, and she shook her head, chuckling.

Liv looked at her hands, thinking over her words carefully. "When you first came to New York, I . . . was going through something, and change was . . . well, change was exactly what I was afraid of. So in the beginning, I don't think I was as supportive of you as I could have been, or should have been." She looked up, met Amanda's gaze as it was directed right at her. "I'm sorry for that. I think it put us at odds at the time that was most important, and for a long time I didn't trust you."

"Definitely doesn't sound like I've gotten promoted," Rollins teased, and they both laughed.

"Amanda, you're a great detective," Olivia clarified, "I had just been comfortable for so long that every new person's growing pains reminded me of how things used to be. Before."

"Before what? Did I replace someone who died?" Something in Liv's face startled Amanda. "Oh God – I did, didn't I?"

"No – no. You didn't. But I did lose someone, and within a couple years, the whole squad changed. It was a lot, and you deserved an easier transition."

"Well, I know I'm not in much of a position to speak to the past, but I will say that transition has, uh, never been my strong suit." Rollins smiled softly and shrugged. "If I'm still around four years later, I'm sure it hasn't been all bad."

"Of course not."

"Did my family come to New York?"

Liv shook her head. "No, but . . . your sister has been around, a few times."

"Oh God," Rollins paled, "what did Kim want?"

"Let's not – " Liv gestured helplessly, "until you can see a doctor. I don't want to color things in a way that isn't how you experienced things . . . "

"Well, with Kim I'd say there's only _one_ color, and it's the bright, flashing red of a goddam alarm system," Amanda muttered. "I doubt any way you describe it could over-sell it."

"You really don't talk much, about your parents. Or about anything you left behind in Georgia," Liv told her, trying to change the subject slightly.

Then it was Rollins' turn to avoid Liv's eyes, drawing into herself uncomfortably. "There's plenty 'a good reason for _that_ ," she confessed faintly.

Olivia was silently understanding, not wanting to push when neither of them could know how much they would remember when their ordeal was over. "But – " she touched Amanda's arm briefly, "I know you like Manhattan, and you love the work. You're good at it. I'm grateful that Cragen brought you up from Atlanta."

"Who?"

"Our old Captain," Liv laughed. "He's retired now."

"Oh," Rollins frowned.

Olivia searched for something else to say, to comfort her confusion, but as she opened her mouth to speak, they were interrupted by the opening of the door. Both women turned, eyes wide and guarded, and were confronted by Rhoda's figure in the doorway. Vince stood tall behind her, so polished and formal in contrast to his female partner in crime. Without the knitted cap, Rhoda's hair was cropped very short. She was a brunette, pale and green-eyed – and, in that moment, seemingly very embarrassed. Hands shoved deep into the pockets of dark jeans, she shuffled forward, eyes turned toward the floor, blushing to the very tips of her ears.

Vince stepped heavily in behind her, shutting the door behind them, and that was when Liv saw that he was carrying the shotgun. He pushed Rhoda with the heel of his hand, causing her to stutter forward further. "Tell them," he said to her.

Rhoda, looked up, still refusing to meet either woman's gaze directly. Her voice was strained with shame and anxiety. She said:

"I need to learn a lesson."

**TBC**


	8. Mirror Image

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: MA
> 
> Spoilers: Pattern Seventeen, Forgiving Rollins
> 
> Trigger warnings: consent by coercion, weapons, voyeurism, homophobia, references to rape, captivity

Olivia looked at Rhoda and Vince blankly, her muscles rigid with anxious anticipation. "What does that mean?"

Rhoda cleared her throat and scuffed the floor with her boot. "You two . . . have to, um, do stuff. While I watch."

Liv's mouth fell open as her better eye went wide. "We . . . what?" her voice came out breathless and faint.

"You heard her," Vince snapped.

"I – _no!_ " It came out instinctually, reflexively, from embarrassment and resentment.

"Olivia – " Amanda cautioned quietly from behind her.

"Shut up, Amanda," Liv cut her off, "let me handle this."

"There's nothing to handle," Vince informed them, and primed the shot gun. It was incredibly loud in the quiet room. "Either you do it, or you die – and not quickly."

Olivia was unflinching, utterly still in the spot where she stood. Rhoda was still off to the side, quiet but breathing rapidly, waiting. Vince shouldered the gun and levelled the barrel at the brunette with a snarl that wasn't suited for his clean, intelligent face.

"Wait," Amanda said calmly, and stepped between the barrel and Liv purposefully. "Wait a second. Can I have a word with my wife?" she asked. "Please."

"We're staying right here," he told her.

"Okay," the blonde nodded. Taking Liv by the forearm, she pulled her aside and into a whispered huddle. "There are much better things to take a stand for," she murmured. "It's a bit premature to throw yourself on a gun, don't'cha think?"

"You can't be serious! Do you really think they're going to _stop_ there? What do you think will happen if we just give in?"

"I _know_ what will happen if we _don't_!" Rollins hissed. "And I've got an entire life in New York that I haven't even lived yet. I'm not ready to die without finding out what the last four years have been like, or willing to let you die, either!"

Fear, anger, discomfort: Olivia's stomach was knotted with a sour mix of emotions that there was no time to untangle. She unclenched her shoulders in disgusted defeat, her chin dipping toward her chest as her heart pounded.

"Alright," Amanda said, louder, nodding in Vince's direction.

"Ro, get the chair," Vince said, without turning his head.

Rhoda crossed the floor and retrieved the chair she had used before, when tending to Olivia's head. She pulled it along until it was next to where Vince stood, then sat down. That was when he motioned with the gun again, this time at the bed.

"Get going," he told them.

Not asking specific questions was a tactic it seemed both women had settled on in order to refrain from digging themselves in deeper. Thus, they got onto the bed entirely clothed, laying down facing each other like virgin teenagers scared to make a move.

"They still think we're married," Rollins whispered in Olivia's ear, "try to keep up the act."

Liv raised an eyebrow, in surprise at the idea that any of her reactions would be fabricated. The short kiss they had shared nearly two days ago was more than she had felt in ages – enough to scare her more than staring down a shotgun barrel. Which was exactly why this situation was dangerous in more than the obvious ways.

All of these concerns were cut off by Amanda's mouth, softly grazing up Olivia's jawbone on the way to her lips. Similar to the first kiss they had shared, it was tentative and careful, but it rapidly warmed up, with Amanda scooting closer on the bed. The press of Amanda's warm curves into her was fireworks: the fullness of her breasts, even beneath her clothes, lining up with Liv's own was explosive.

Strangely, neither Rhoda nor Vince spoke. The silence made it dangerously easy to forget the duress, and for the room to slip away. Before long, Olivia became aware of the creep of Amanda's fingertips, beneath the edge of her sweater. Her cool palm slid up the plane of her belly and over the swell of one breast inside warm satin, pressing her thumb over the nipple. The pad of Rollins' thumb rubbed the nipple to an aching peak, drawing breath from her open-mouthed kisses as she sighed out, "God, Amanda . . . "

As their bodies shifted and collided soundlessly on the bed, Rollins was able to nudge her leg between Liv's, bringing her thigh up to press into the cleft of her groin. It wasn't until Olivia recognized the pooling of desire there, that she became aware she'd been rhythmically rocking into the firm muscle. Her head spun with the sharp contrast of her desire and the context of the situation.

"Jesus, Ro, I think you hit the jackpot this time!"

The sudden sound of Vince speaking jarred the two women on the bed out of their quiet mental seclusion. Liv's breath caught, and she blushed deeply as her stomach throbbed with embarrassment and indecency. Amanda squeezed a hand in hers reassuringly, but they had both stopped moving at the noise.

"That's enough for right now," Vince told them, surprising everyone. "C'mon, Rhoda." He rushed the woman from her chair, nudging at her with the shotgun as they went.

The door clicked shut, and Olivia and Amanda lay facing each other in silence again – this time also in privacy.

"We need to talk," Liv exhaled shakily.

Amanda rolled to her back and took a deep breath, rubbing down the corners of her mouth with her thumb and forefinger. "Okay," she nodded. "I'm listening."

"We haven't talked much, yet, about the four years you can't remember - but there are things that I know. About you. Things that came up, over the years . . . that are important, right now, that you know I'm aware of," Olivia tried to explain, but it came out sounding strange.

"Ok?" Rollins looked at Liv uncomfortably, feeling embarrassed immediately, unable to know about what.

"About a year ago, we cracked a case that turned out to be connected to a cold case in Atlanta. The pattern 17 rapist," Liv told her. "It turned out that he had committed dozens of rapes, all over the country, but with nobody testing their rape kits, we didn't have his DNA. You went back down to Atlanta, to get access to the kits there, and ultimately, with a little luck and some more work, our squad cracked the case."

Amanda was listening intently, but nothing seemed to have dawned on her yet.

"Albert Beck was an EMT, he traveled around the country, knew how to choke out his victims. He liked to hum a gospel song."

Rollins' eyes widened at last. "The humming guy?! We caught that son of a bitch?!" Liv nodded. "Yes! That's incredible!"

"It was," Liv agreed, "and we couldn't have done it without you, but Rollins . . . after it was all over, your former boss from Atlanta came up to Manhattan."

"Chief Patton?" Amanda said, going pale at the name. "Yes. He wanted to steal NYPD SVU's thunder by taking more credit than he deserved. Not only that, he showed up at the conference with a brand new, blonde protégé Detective."

Pain was starting to cloud into the blues of Rollins' eyes, but there was nowhere for her to run. She rolled away from Liv, facing the wall, and curled up tight.

"Amanda," Liv sighed gently, "I – I know what Patton did to you," she confessed, placing a hand tenderly on the blonde's shoulder. "But that's not why I'm telling you this. Well – not entirely why I'm telling you." She moved a little closer to Rollins' form, careful not to touch her too much. "Honey, we got him. We got him; he can't hurt you any more."

Rollins turned her head, craning to see Liv over her shoulder. "W-what?"

"He resigned from his office, he pled guilty and was put on the registry."

"But . . . in _my_ case? I – I mean I kind of . . . consented? Sort of."

"Listen to me," Liv said firmly, moving the rest of the way forward until they were spooned together, "you revoked your consent and Patton raped you. He did the same thing to the woman he brought with him to Manhattan. He allocuted in open court, and he can never work in law enforcement again. You and that woman – you beat him, at his own game."

She felt Rollins finally relax against her, and let out a tight breath in relief.

"Christ," Amanda murmured, "I thought I'd never get out from under Patton's thumb, ever. I can't believe it."

"We both know that, until we figure out how we're getting out of here, that those two are going to be back. And if I'm getting their drift, they're going to want something more than kissing."

This time, Amanda rolled all the way over. She didn't speak, but they looked at each other intently.

"I told you because I need you to know that, no matter what happens, you're safe with me. Don't be afraid to tell me if you get triggered or uncomfortable. Don't . . . don't just go along because you think you have to hide anything from me," Olivia explained. "I can't have that over my head, Amanda. I won't. I refuse to hurt you."

"Thank you," she whispered with a small smile.

Rollins' blue eyes searched the brown of Olivia's, so touched and yet, so bewildered at how much had happened in the four years that had emptied from her head. The more they talked, the more she wanted that time back. She wanted the triumphs and the change and the memories. But somehow, she knew that the relationship between herself and Olivia would not be – _was_ not – the same in that reality. The thought of losing what they had been through, what she felt now for the older woman, left her feeling anxious and melancholy.

.

.

Vince and Rhoda did not return, however, the rest of that day or into the night. It wasn't until mid-morning the following day that they saw either of them again, when Rhoda came tottering in with a breakfast tray.

She set it down on the chair, which was just where she had left it. Looking over at her two captives, she nodded at them, but her eyes were vacant.

"Rhoda?" Liv said as the woman was going back to the door. She stopped and turned those empty eyes back toward them. "Would you . . . do you want to stay with us? We could talk while we eat."

She seemed to consider it, glancing thoughtfully back out into the rest of the house.

"As long as it won't upset Vince," Rollins added, watching Rhoda carefully.

"He's not – " she mumbled, then cleared her throat, "he's at work."

Liv got up from the bed and retrieved the tray. "Pull up a chair," she told Rhoda brightly, "if you want."

After hesitating another long moment, Rhoda stepped in and shut the door behind her. She dragged the chair closer to the bed, then took a seat and crossed her arms over her chest awkwardly. She watched them, looking over what was for breakfast and deciding who would eat what.

Liv wanted information, but she didn't want to jump in as though interrogating, so she said nothing until the food was organized between herself and Amanda. Biting into a banana, she asked, "How did you meet Vince?"

"Met 'im when I was nursing."

"Did you nurse close to here?"

"Naw. Not here."

"In Michigan?"

Rhoda narrowed her gaze. "Far from here."

"Is he your husband?" Rollins asked.

"Christ, no," Rhoda snorted.

Liv and Amanda exchanged a look and chewed slowly, thinking. It was Olivia who finally asked a more direct question. "What is it, exactly, that Vince is trying to teach you?"

It made Rhoda stiffen and blush faintly. Immediately, she dropped her eye contact. "He wants me to . . . " she gestured, but indistinctly, "be . . . normal."

"Normal?" Liv furrowed her brows.

"Like, better." Liv held back, tipped her head, still watching her as she chewed on toast. "I – I uh, I've never been so good, with – with men. He says I need help; that he wants me to learn."

The answer staggered both women on the bed, and not just for the obvious reason. Blinking with surprise, Amanda tucked her hair behind her ears and cleared her throat. "I – I don't mean anything by this, but . . . how does watching two women fit with his plan?"

"It's not usually two women. Usually it's not even two _people_ ," Rhoda explained. She took a deep breath, letting it out as a sigh, then got up from the chair and crossed to the window. "You two were just some . . . big stroke of luck, for him." She gazed out on the smooth, deep snow, her gaze far off, glazed.

"So how is it usually?" Liv asked, trying not to cross a line that would make the woman shut down.

"Usually it's just one woman at a time. Vince does 'em. Makes me watch . . . sometimes makes me join in. He says it's training."

"Training?" Liv echoed. "For sex?"

"I can only get . . . " she stopped, balled her hands into fists, frustrated. "I only . . . " she gestured again, at herself, then at the world outside the window, "with women! Vince says he can teach me how to enjoy it with men, instead."

Amanda was gaping in disbelief, and snapped her mouth shut as Rhoda turned back to them.

"That's why he's so pleased about finding you two. It turns me on better . . . gives him more to work with." Their breakfast was pretty much done, except for some weak instant coffee, and Rollins kept her eyes on the tray as she absorbed what Rhoda was trying to say. "It always ends the same way, though," she said hollowly.

She crossed back to the bed, stacking empty dishes. She wouldn't meet their eyes again as she picked up the tray and said: "Now he wants to fix you, too."

.

.

A bell over the door jingled when Carisi and Fin entered the car rental company. It was like a million other car rental places: clean, boring, and quiet. A TV mounted up high on a corner shelf was murmuring a soap opera into the lobby. There was nobody behind the counter. Fin tapped the bell for service as Carisi perused the tourism pamphlets along the wall.

"Hey – did you know the windmill in Holland, Michigan, is the only authentic Dutch windmill operating in the US?" Carisi said, holding up a flyer.

"Yeah? I'll come back and see it right after they get some clean water to the people livin' in Flint," Fin replied. He smacked the bell again. "Hello? Anybody workin'?!"

Finally, a man appeared from out back, grinning apologetically as he wiped his hands on a mechanic's oil rag.. "Sorry! Sorry, gentlemen, it gets hard to hear the bell back there with all the machinery going."

"Maybe you should consider gettin' a front desk person," Fin offered.

"It's on the top of the list, as soon as business picks up!" he said brightly. "My name's David Pelley. What can I do for you folks?"

Fin briefly showed his badge, then pulled up a picture on his phone. "You rent a car to these two women, 'bout four days ago?"

David squinted at the picture. "Uh – yeah. Yeah, the brunette signed the paperwork. It was a, uh – a Mazda 3; new compact sedan."

"You get it back yet?" Carisi asked.

"No, Sir, the rental was for seven days."

"Did they seem okay? When they came in, I mean – were they alone, did they seem nervous or in a hurry?" Fin probed.

"Not that I recall," the man shook his head. "It was just the two of them. Other than tired, and cold, they were just another rental."

"We're gonna need to see the rental contract," Fin told him. He sighed, thinking, while the man went to a nearby filing cabinet. After a moment, David handed him the forms. "Do you use a tracking system for your rentals, or log them on a GPS?"

"Too small of an operation for that. Sorry fellas." He shrugged, "The new Mazda they're in has a nav system on board, but they were the first to rent it, so I didn't have time to tinker with any programming. Are those two ladies alright?"

"We're not sure." Fin slid his card across the counter. "If you hear from them, you give us a call," he told him.

"Of course," David nodded. Fin and Carisi turned to go out the same way they came. "Have a good day, now," the man called after them.

The bell jangled as the pneumatic door pulled shut, the man watching Fin and Carisi crossing the parking lot. Looking down at the business card on the formica counter, he could read _Manhattan_ _Special_ _Victims_ _Unit_. The friendly smile slipped off his face, one side at a time.

That was when Vince realized he'd have to go back to the car in the snowbank.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a couple things – 1) that fact about Holland, Michigan is true, 2) the Flint water crisis started in 2014, so that reference is correct per time period.


	9. Impasse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: MA
> 
> Spoilers: None
> 
> Trigger warnings: consent by coercion, weapons, voyeurism, homophobia, references to rape, captivity

The shadows from afternoon light were growing long when the two captive detectives attempted to make sense of what Rhoda had been trying to tell them. Arms crossed over her chest, Olivia stood beside the window, gazing out across the landscape, impatient in her desire to get back to her normal life.

"It just doesn't make a whole lotta sense," Rollins sighed.

"Reasoning behind rape rarely makes any sense," Liv reminded her.

"But – how did they cross paths? Does she love him? What does he have over her that she feels so compelled to please him?"

"Stockholm Syndrome is a very real thing – "

"Nah, I don't buy that," Rollins interjected, shaking her head,"- the power dynamic is all wrong. She would normally be younger than him in that case, but I'm sure Rhoda is older than Vince."

"Yes, but! I think the age difference in this case might be part of the reason why she listens to him," Olivia explained. "She's older, maybe from a small place where she was bullied, or grew up in a discriminatory household? If all she wants is to be what she thinks is 'normal' . . . maybe when she met the first man who offered her that . . . ?" Liv shrugged, rubbing at her temples. Her stitches were healing well, it was the black eye that seemed insistent on giving her a headache.

"I think we should talk to her some more," Amanda told her.

"I mean, we can try. She hasn't been much for making friends."

"We have to at least _try_ – the way I see it, she's our best ticket outta here. Otherwise, we're just sitting around waiting on Vince's next move."

"I know just how that's gonna go," Liv exhaled, sitting heavily next to Amanda on the edge of the bed.

A knock at the door punctuated their thoughts, and then Rhoda swept into the room with a tray of supper. She seemed less brooding than earlier in the day, and there was more food on the tray than usual.

"I made supper!" she declared, putting the tray down on the chair again. "I thought maybe I could stay awhile, again. If you two don't mind?"

Liv and Amanda exchanged a glance.

"Of course not," Amanda smiled. "Be our guest."

Rhoda grinned and motioned to the tray. "These sandwiches are somethin' my momma used to make; I know the recipe by heart. Thought you'd enjoy it."

"You must've been close to your mom," Rollins continued, taking one of the sandwiches.

Rhoda shoved her hands in her pockets and shook her head. "Not – not really. It was me, and Momma and my two sisters, but they were close. I just kinda . . . hovered in the background."

"Like you were invisible," Amanda said, knowingly. The sandwiches had a spiced chicken, with pickles and a sauce that was unfamiliar but great. "Wow! These are awesome!" she exclaimed, still chewing.

Rhoda beamed, blushing faintly.

"What about your sisters? Where are they, now?" Liv asked.

"When my momma died, they moved out of state. They're married. They're . . . " Rhoda frowned, "normal. Momma was always fussin' over them; they were really girly, just like her."

"But you weren't?" Rollins inferred.

She snorted, as she had at the implication Vince was her spouse. "Not at all. I was always up a tree or in the mud. Up to no good, according to Momma."

"Mm – I loved climbin' trees when I was a kid," Rollins smiled.

Rhoda widened her eyes. "You?"

"Ohh yeah," Rollins smirked. "I grew up in the South; I climbed every tree within runnin' distance. Caught frogs, too."

"Is that why you – " she trailed off and looked away. "Do you think that's why you don't sleep with men?"

"Trust me, darlin'," Amanda flashed a flirty smile, "I've slept with my fair share of men."

Olivia hid her own smile behind the sandwich she was finishing. She had a suspicion that Amanda's share was, and probably would continue to be more than fair.

"Did you hate it?"

A breath of anticipatory silence filled the room. Olivia watched Amanda's face surreptitiously.

"Sometimes I did . . . " the blonde answered slowly. Her blue eyes were thoughtful, but distant, looking into her past, "took me a long time to learn that it's not about who you have sex with. If you're having it for the wrong reason, it's not going to be great. It's so easy to find reasons to have it for no reason at all, you know?

"But you know, it changes, that first time you realize what you're doin' it for. I know that probably sounds like a fairy tale . . . I guess I kind of believed it was, too. Until it wasn't." Rollins shrugged. Her eyes focused back onto the shy, odd woman who was looking at her the way Olivia imagined some people probably looked at their priests.

Rhoda licked her lips, trying to wet her dry mouth. "I – " she tried, but the words were knotted in her throat. "When I was in high school, I tried to . . . with this guy," Rhoda began, her voice barely above a whisper. "But he . . . I – "

"Yeah," Rollins exhaled, her eyes sympathetic, "I know what that's like, too."

Rhoda held the blonde's gaze for a long moment. Nobody was sure if she would speak again, but before there was an answer, they were all startled by the slam of the front door to the cabin, and the heavy crash of Vince's boots.

" _Rhoda!_ "

The bellow reverberated through the cabin, causing the blood to drain from Rhoda's face. She spun on her heel and rushed out of the room, leaving Liv and Amanda side by side on the bed. Though they strained to hear what followed, the shout had immediately dropped to a muffled, terse blustering that couldn't be discerned.

It went on for five minutes, then closer to ten. Finally, those heavy steps started toward the bedroom. The door flew open hard enough to hit the wall behind, and there was Vince, his face ablaze with fury, chest heaving.

"Both of you," he spat, "get your clothes off. Now."

The two women glanced at each other, but for barely a moment, as they heard the sound of his shotgun. It got them both on their feet, Olivia holding out a pre-emptive hand.

"Ok, Vince. Just a second, we heard you," Liv told him.

He shouldered the gun, but stopped walking, waiting. The two captive women shucked everything down to bras and panties as he stared, while Rhoda hung back in the doorway.

"Now get on the bed," he ordered.

They complied, this time laying close enough that Liv could partially embrace Rollins, driven by a want to shield her from Vince's gaze. He took a step to the chair where the dinner tray still was, and knocked it to the floor, sending what food was left flying to the floor.

"Rhoda, get over here." She shut the door and came quickly but hesitantly and sat, her face a composition of fear and contemplation. He turned his gaze back on the bed and spoke through gritted teeth: "Start. Now."

It was as good an excuse as any for Liv to protect Rollins' body with her own, and she moved over her, kissing her softly at the spot where her ear met her jawline. "I'm sorry," she breathed, "I'm so sorry for all of this."

Amanda didn't get to respond because the kiss moved to her mouth. The warm cover of Liv's skin on her own was somehow comforting, even in the extremity of their situation. She arched into the kiss, opening her mouth to the wetness of Olivia's tongue, and at the same time sliding her hand into the front of Liv's panties.

Their hands were cool, and she was shockingly aware of it as cool fingers plied against where she was warmest. The kiss stuttered and set Liv panting against Rollins' mouth as the fingers hit home, brushing against her slick, engorged center.

"What did I tell you, Ro?" Vince said, curling his lip in disgusted anger. "It was all an act! They're not even married!"

Everything in the room stilled. Amanda would've sworn that she heard Liv's heartrate nearly triple. Both women on the bed leaned up, craning to see Vince.

He tossed two leather badge wallets into Rhoda's lap. "They're cops!"

Amanda and Olivia breathed shallowly, motionless as Rhoda looked at the IDs. The look on her face changed. "But . . . that doesn't mean - "

"What? That they don't mean it?" he laughed. "Come on! You think they didn't put on a show? To save their lives? Or, what – they just like to fool around in front of strange Dykes in the middle of the woods?"

Blood colored Rhoda's face, as her grip on the wallets tightened to a clamp whitening her fingers.

"Now," Vince went on, "we're doing what we talked about." He held the shotgun out to Rhoda for her to take.

"Vince, wait. I don't think – "

"Take. The gun."

Rhoda sighed and grabbed the shotgun by the barrel. Olivia, still watching silently from the bed, tightened her grip on Amanda when she saw Vince's hands go to the waist of his pants.

"If they're cops," Rhoda tried again, "that just makes this even more of a bad idea!"

"You'd know all about bad ideas, wouldn't you, Ro?" he chuckled. Glancing at her face again, he grew even more impatient. "Listen, do you want to be normal, or not? Stop dreaming of and acting like a pussy, and pay _fucking_ attention!"

She seemed to give in, her shoulders sagging, her expression cloudy again. She pulled the gun up and shouldered it, aiming it obediently at the bed. "You shouldn't have lied," Rhoda told them, her voice quavering. Her eyes were dark, and hurt.

"When are you gonna learn that I'm the only one you can trust?" Vince chided her. He got his pants undone and dropped them. On the bed Liv tucked her chin toward her chest and told Amanda to close her eyes.

But before Vince took another step toward the bed, all the air seemed sucked out of the room by the sound of the shotgun as Rhoda pulled the trigger.

**TBC**


	10. Recall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy New Year/2021 Constant Readers! Not only did we survive 2020, you made it to the newest update. Woo! I hope everyone's holidays were wonderful. Mine were the busiest, and most exhausting I've had in years. For like 3 days after Boxing Day, my wife and I were so tired we slept like 12 hrs each day. Wowza. Like, I was whipped shit, y'all. I'm a bit more alive now, and just finished up the newest chapter. Thanks for hanging on, I hope you enjoy. Read and review., and thank you for all kind words, as always. See you soon!
> 
> Rating: T, this chapter
> 
> Spoilers: None
> 
> Trigger warnings: weapons, death, hospital environment, medical treatment references

The blast of shotgun fire reverberated, in the air around them, in the walls of the cabin – even in the bones and teeth of the two women on the bed. Outside, in the forest of skeleton trees, winter animals skittered.

"Amanda!" Liv gasped, her hands skimming skin wildly as she finally filled her panicked lungs, "Are you hit?!"

Before Rollins could form an answer, the door to the room was kicked open violently, and everything became a cacophony of noise and movement again.

"Police! Drop the gun, drop the gun!" Carisi shouted, aiming at Rhoda, who was still standing over Vince. Her chest was heaving with anger, smoke still curling from the barrel-end.

Then her shoulders dropped, and she let go of the shotgun, letting it rattle heavily to the floor. "Don't worry," she said emptily, "he's dead, anyway." She said no more as Carisi slipped the handcuffs on her.

At the sound of the gun hitting the floor, Fin had immediately shrugged off his leather jacket and stridden to the bed, covering Olivia and Amanda, keeping his eyes cast down. "Get her outta here, Carisi!" he shouted, and then respectfully turned away from the bed. "You two a'ight?" he asked.

"Yes, Fin - we're ok," Liv answered.

"You need medical attention?"

"We can wait until we get to a hospital," she said, catching her breath. "Can you step out long enough for . . . ?" she trailed off purposefully.

"Yeah, sure thing." He left them alone with Vince, dead on the floor with a bullet hole in his head.

Olivia passed clothing up to Rollins from the floor, and the two women dressed slowly in silence. Amanda pulled on Fin's jacket over her sweater, giving Liv back hers, which she had been wearing for the last days. At last, they opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the world they had been locked out of, looking warily around them.

.

.

It was over an hour before the two women were escorted to the hospital that was on the highway, North of Adrian. By then, they had spoken with Adrian PD, summarized their ordeal to Fin and Carisi, and watched Vince's body get removed from the cabin. The property was swarming with crime scene analysts and detectives by then, the blue, red and white lights illuminating the snow in the dark of the long-past-sunset evening.

Doctors separated Liv from Amanda, sending her for tests, then focused on cleaning Liv up, checking stitches and asking the usual battery of questions.

"Well, whoever they are, they did a fine job on these," the doctor murmured, touching the stitches gingerly.

"She said she used to be a nurse. Maybe she worked around here? First name Rhoda?"

The doctor shook her head. "Not that I know of. You're dehydrated, and pretty exhausted, but you seem mostly well. We're keeping you overnight, for fluids and observation."

"Can you tell me, please, where to find Rollins?"

"Your partner was taken down for a head CT and some x-rays. She'll be here all night as well, so you can ask the nurse on duty in a while what room she'll be in," the doctor told her.

A nurse came, leading Olivia to her room for the night, then set her up with a saline IV. They gave her a paper cup of pills with ibuprofen, an antibiotic, and an Atavan, then made sure there were plenty of warm blankets for the bed. When the nurse left, Fin appeared in the doorway, hovering anticipatorily, hands in his pockets.

"Hey, Fin," Liv smiled faintly.

"What'd the doc say?" he asked, crossing to the foot of her bed.

"Oh, I'm fine," she dismissed with a chuckle, "just tired and cold."

"You scared the hell outta us, Liv. For real."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I really tried," she told him.

"Glad you're okay. Better get some sleep though," he smiled, pulling up some of the heavy blankets.

"Fin."

"Yeah?"

"I think he's our guy – our serial. I need you to check it out. Cross-check the victims, get DNA . . . "

"I'm on it, Liv. Don't worry, ok? Just rest up."

"Any word on Rollins?"

"Not yet. If I hear anything, you'll be the first to know."

Then she was too sleepy and warm to answer or argue, and she let her eyes close for long-overdue rest.

.

.

Olivia startled awake with her heart in her throat. The buzz of fluorescent lights and the intermittent beep of her IV settled over her, and she exhaled, taking a few deep breaths. A clock on the wall showed it was nearly 11:30 in the morning; she had slept nearly 12 hours. She threw off the blankets and sat up, letting her feet dangle to the floor. The deep ache in most of her muscles was a clear reminder that her body had been through the paces of too much adrenaline and not enough sleep, food or water.

Glancing around for her shoes, she thought only about finding Amanda. She was still searching when an orderly came in with a lunch tray.

"In a hurry to leave us?" she joked, sliding the tray onto the overbed table.

"No, I – " her stomach rumbled at the smell of lunch, "I'm just wondering what happened to my partner."

"The blonde?"

"Yes."

"She's in the ward in the opposite wing. Can't speak to her medical condition, but she's awake." Liv visibly relaxed a little. "Eat some lunch," the orderly urged, "and wait for the doc. She can let you know about you friend."

Olivia relented, and sat back down, pulling the cover from her tray. There was a bowl of beef and barley soup, some cold salads and fruit that Liv inhaled as she gave in to the fact that she was ravenous.

She was joined by the doctor moments after she pushed back the table with the empty tray.

The doctor took Liv's wrist and silently counted off her pulse. "Feeling any better?"

"Yes, thank you." She winced as the doctor touched her stitches. "Mm. Some more painkillers," the doctor murmured, "and another antibiotic. You should take it easy for a bit."

"How is Amanda?"

The doc scratched some notes into Liv's chart as she spoke: "Her CT scan showed some minor swelling in her prefrontal cortex – " the doctor tapped her forehead, "but no fracture. We gave her something to help reduce it, and help with any headaches. Like yourself, she's also exhausted, but she'll make a full recovery."

"What about the amnesia? Will she remember everything?" Liv blushed deeply as her mind immediately thought of Amanda's hand slipping inside her underwear.

"Some of the older memories could take six months or so, but she's already showing great improvement. We'll have you both discharged by end of day."

"Can I see her?"

"Of course."

She gave Olivia directions to Rollins' room in the opposite wing, and then left her alone again. A second search resulted in the shoes she had wanted, and Liv hurried out of the room with her IV pole in tow.

.

.

Knocking softly, Liv went into Rollins' room, and sure enough, there was the blonde: awake, a little pale, and sporting her own IV line.

"Hey!" Amanda drawled brightly, "I was wonderin' where you'd gotten to!"

"Not far," Liv smiled. She came to Amanda's bedside, searching her face intently. "The doctor said you're doing better."

"Yeah, that's what I hear," she chuckled. Her hands moved anxiously atop the blankets, expending nervous energy. After a quiet pause, Amanda looked down and said, "I'm sorry, Liv."

Liv's heart skipped a beat. "For what?" she husked out, her throat suddenly thick with too many emotions.

"For not being more helpful . . . for getting amnesia and making the situation even more dangerous." Rollins sighed. "For not being more careful, when I got out of the car?" she shrugged.

"Amanda, listen to me. You didn't do anything wrong; Vince was obviously very well-practiced, and I don't think it would have mattered which one of us got out of the car. All I care about is that you're going to be okay, and that Vince won't be able to hurt anyone else."

"Have you heard anything about Rhoda?"

Liv shook her head. "I told Fin to look into our serial rapist victims, though, and see if there are connections."

"You think Vince is our guy?"

"I have a feeling, yes." She glanced over to the food tray beside Amanda's bed. "Did you eat anything?"

The tired blonde wrinkled her nose, which made Liv grin. "Hospital food," she shuddered.

"If I promise to get you something better when we're discharged, do you think you could suffer down the fruit and the jello?"

The blue of Amanda's eyes sparked with amusement. "Something better like a burger?"

"Why not?" Olivia laughed.

"And salty, grease-soaked fries?"

"You earned it," Liv told her, going to the tray and pulling out the plastic container of fruit. She popped it open and stabbed a fork into a piece of pineapple. She held it out to Rollins, grinning. "Eat up."

Amanda snatched the fork, rolling her eyes, but ate the pineapple as agreed. Liv was transfixed by Amanda's mouth, drawing in the fruit, and the quick glimpse of pink tongue before she imagined the squirt of tart juice that would follow.

A quick blink, and she turned her focus back to the cup of fruit in her hand. Blushing, she held out the cup to Rollins, who met it across the stretch of the hospital bed. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, and Liv finally reminded herself to refill her lungs.

"You know . . . " Amanda said slowly, "now that my memory is coming back to me, I seem to recall that you promised me something." She speared the fork into a chunk of watermelon, keeping her eyes on the fruit as Olivia's stomach took a fall off of what felt like a trapeze rope.

Olivia opened her mouth to reply.

At the same time, Carisi strode through the hospital room doorway. "Rollins!" he said with a relieved smile. "You look better!" He didn't stop until his long legs collided soundlessly with the side of Amanda's bed. "Good to see you with an appetite."

Liv's mouth snapped shut, and she turned away from them both, long enough to smooth her hands over her wrinkled clothes and take a deep breath. She longed for a shower, and for resolution.

"Does anyone know what happened with Rhoda?" Liv asked, as Fin joined the room.

"Yeah," Carisi nodded. "She got discharged this morning, and the Adrian PD took her into custody for murder."

"Murder?" Liv echoed sharply, narrowing her gaze. "Carisi, it was self-defense; Vince obviously had her brainwashed."

"Vince?" Carisi was confused.

"Pelley," Fin cut in, trying to help.

"Oh. No, they didn't take her in for shooting that piece'a crap," he told her.

"You just said murder," Liv reminded him.

Carisi nodded. "Because that's not the only person Rhoda's killed."

**TBC**


	11. Parallels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Folx. It's heading for 6am where I am, and I couldn't stop writing until I got this out. You're welcome.
> 
> Rating: MA
> 
> Spoilers: None
> 
> Trigger warnings: voyeurism, masturbation

Not since the Lewis escapade – which was already two-and-a-half years behind her – had Olivia been so tired and conflicted. She and Amanda had been discharged, as expected, by the evening following their rescue, with a handful of meds and the advice to take things slowly until their follow-up in New York.

Liv had driven Amanda to the nearest local restaurant and let her order anything she wanted. They had eaten hot food until their bellies sang with succor, and eventually protest. Neither of them broached the topic of the promise again – not now that things were finally light again.

Afterward, they checked into the hotel that they had originally booked before leaving Manhattan. Their rooms were side by side, with an adjoining door. Without consciously deciding, both women locked their hallway doors and left the adjoining door unlocked. At last, Liv could indulge in the comfort and restoration of a hot shower.

She let the water run overly hot for a minute or so, in an attempt to scald off her guilt and her nerves. Goosebumps rose and then smoothed as she turned under the spray in a tight circle, her arms crossed over her breasts, each hand on its opposite's shoulder.

As her breathing slowed, the quiet, the safety of locked doors and her Glock 19 within safe reach got her mind to stop spinning. As it cleared, her mind turned to the night before Rhoda had entered their unfortunate side-trip. Amanda's smile, lighting up her eyes as she giggled and played the _Dukes of Hazzard_ game with her. The soft crackle of the fire, and their lowered voices, all so far away from the job that had brought them to Michigan.

How long had it been, since she had even been anywhere west of New Jersey? Years? Too long. It was getting hard to even remember a time before she was something other than the job.

Olivia's thoughts slid on to the subject she had been aggressively avoiding since it happened. Her mind and senses summoned up the scent of Amanda's skin, all around her, and the weight of her body, pressing into her cold edges, warming even the rapid thud of her scared heart.

She let out a soft sigh.

The goosebumps returned, encouraged by the sluice of the water over her neck and breasts. Without letting herself rationalize it, she let her hand drift to the juncture of her thighs. She was well on the way to wet, and there was an orgasm coiled inside of her that had been laying in wait for days.

She let out a shocked gasp as the hot water ran out, dousing her in only ice cold. Panting, she grabbed for the taps and twisted them off. She stood there for a beat, letting the warm air in the bathroom envelop her to neutralize the chill. Then she stepped out, dripping, onto the bathmat. She had draped the hotel's complimentary robe over the edge of the counter, and now she shrugged it on, continuing on to the bed.

Stretching out on the bed, her hair wetting the pillowcase, she took a deep breath and refocused on herself. She wished that her fingers on her nipples were Amanda's, that the remembrance of her kisses were actual ones, licking the water from her clavicles. She drove her fingertips into the skin of her inner thighs, drawing her legs up and letting them fall open. The air felt illicit and agonizing against her hard clit and engorged labia, enough to make her grind her ass into the mattress and groan.

No. Wait.

Her eyes snapped open, she sucked in a deep breath as she realized that the groan hadn't been hers. All the blood that had been racing to her lower half reversed direction, causing her stomach to bottom out. Her earlobes burned like she was a child caught stealing from her mother's wallet. Her head came up off the pillow, her eyes sweeping the room in dazed embarrassment. There was no one in the room, of course, except her, but still she remained frozen. So still and so silent that her straining to listen was a rush in her ears.

Then, it came again: a groan, guttural and protracted. The blood in her veins did another 180 as Liv comprehended that it was coming from the other side of the wall. It was coming from Amanda.

" _Oh myy Goddd_ . . . " Olivia exhaled it as a heavy whisper, not willing yet to return the knowledge to the blonde in the next room that she was similarly engaged. As wet as she had already been, her pussy grew even wetter and more swollen at this knowledge she wasn't supposed to have.

More muffled noises crossed the barrier between them, and chills shuddered through Liv at each one. She closed her eyes again, thinking of the moment that Amanda's cool fingertip had slid over her aching clit. In response, she plunged a finger into her pussy, choking back the desperate groan that rose in her throat from the relief.

Drawing the finger back out, she dragged it over her pulsing clit, flicking roughly, her hips writhing. A whimper from Amanda reached her ears and she exhaled in a pant, not realizing she'd been holding her breath again. Liv traded the too-short memories of their touching for an image of Amanda, under the covers in the bed in the next room. She imagined her with one hand shoved into her panties, panting at the thought of Liv doing the same, finger-fucking herself.

"Jesus," she panted softly.

Both hands, now: two fingers filling herself, the other still taking care of her clit. She tried to think of something she wouldn't give, to have Amanda inside of her at that moment.

From the next room, as if reading her mind, Rollins cried out, " _God_! Liv!"

She orgasmed as if Amanda had beckoned it from her, panting, shaking inside the warmth of the robe as her pelvis bucked at her hands.

Both her arms dropped against the mattress afterward, spread eagled as she worked to catch her breath. She blew an errant, damp wave of hair from her forehead, and pulled the robe closed, drawing a blanket over herself from the foot of the bed.

Before she knew it, Olivia was snoring softly, her face serene.

**TBC**


	12. The Least Seen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I don't know what to say, y'all. Sometimes I gotta live real life for a while, and I have complications from long-term Diabetes (35 yrs), which includes Neuropathy in my eyes. So once every four weeks, I have to go to an Ophthalmologist to have an injection into my right eye, in the hopes of maintaining my vision. Here I am, though, alive and well. I am also bouncing around the idea of setting up a KOFI account, in case any of you would like to throw spare change in my direction in support of my work. If that's something you would consider, please let me know in a comment. 
> 
> I have missed you folx. On to the story. 
> 
> Rating: T, this chapter 
> 
> Spoilers: None
> 
> Trigger warnings: discussion of homicide, dementia, medical assault and rape; prison setting, coercion, predatory behavior.

The Michigan cold penetrated everything, and the interrogation room of the Adrian PD was no exception, even with bars over windows that could not open. Inside the slate grey room, Rhoda sat in a bright orange jumpsuit on a side of the wide square table. One of her booted feet was bouncing rapidly, diverting her anxiety. On the other side of the table, Olivia and Amanda filled two chairs, their expressions somber.

"You mind if I smoke?" Rhoda asked, nodding toward the pack she had laid on the table.

"Go ahead," Liv told her.

Outside the room, an Adrian PD officer lifted a fist to knock and remind the women that there was no smoking in the building. It was Fin who stopped them, touching their forearm abruptly.

"Let her smoke," he said, "she'll talk."

Liv said, "I think it's time you tell us how you and Vince met, Rhoda."

The brunette lit her cigarette and drew on it thoughtfully. When she began, it was in the middle of a thought, as if they had already been talking for some time in that cold, severe room.

"When Mama got sick, I took care of her. My sisters sure as hell weren't gonna, so that left me, and I did it til Mama died. I wasn't surprised when the lawyer said that all the money was left to my sisters . . . but I was mad as hell when they wanted to sell the house." She exhaled a lungful of smoke, flicked her ashes right onto the floor. "They had their own houses, and Mama was all that I'd had – which I guess isn't sayin' much. I told 'em I'd agree to it if they gave me enough from the sale to get my nursing degree, and so that was that.

"Now, I ain't no bright bulb, but nursing – " Rhoda shrugged, "it was just somethin' I could do. Even the book stuff wasn't so bad, and soon enough I was done. Plenty of jobs for nurses, of course, but I didn't have any plans for a high-powered career; I just wanted a job, you know? So I bopped around for a bit, tryin' on this and that . . . seein' what I could put up with, I s'pose." She flicked more ashes, looked up, past Liv's shoulder toward the window. Outside, it was snowing again.

"Eventually, I got comfortable at a, whattaya call it . . . " her cigarette twirled around as she circled her wrist, "a hospice center. It was just old people - like takin' care of Mama, just over and over."

Liv nodded. "Here, in Adrian?"

Rhoda shook her head. "This was up in Bad Axe, about three hours North'a here. I worked there for years – kept my head down, never asked for anything special. Every day was like the same day. Then, one day about four . . . almost five years along, Vince came along. His own mama was put into the care home, and she was on my ward, so I saw started seein' him there. Sometimes four or more evenings a week, and I thought it was strange, somehow – a man, tendin' to his mama like that. I had never seen that. Lord knows my sisters' men would never sit bedside, even if they _were_ dyin'."

"What was his mother's name?" Rollins broke in quietly.

"Donna - same's my own mama," Rhoda recalled, a small smile surfacing and then falling away. "She was a sweet lady, too - nicer than my own mother, even. But she had the Alzheimer's. Awful, awful!" Rhoda flicked ashes angrily and shook her head, her face darkening. "Watchin' somebody disappear like that is a living hell. It's no way for even a dog to die, let alone somebody's mama. Every time she slipped a little farther away, I saw Vince get emptier. He would stop eatin', lose weight, the whole nine.

"After a while, it was like I traded takin' care of his mama for takin' care of him." Her brows knitted together as she chose her explanation carefully. "I mean, it wasn't like I could do anything more for Donna, y'know?" Rhoda paused, savoring her smoke, looking at her hands. "Now, I had never been with anyone – man or woman – just got by on watchin' the younger nurses come and go. Every year I got older, nurse's skirts got an inch shorter," she chuckled. "Vince ain't much to look at, 'course, but he was clean . . . loved his mama, and never tried anything with me. Besides, making sure he ate, making conversation, put a little change in my routine. I told him all about my mama, and my bitchy sisters – and he actually listened. For the first time in my whole life, I felt like maybe I wasn't th'freak everyone thought I was."

"How long did that go on?" Liv asked.

"Maybe four months." Stubbing the cigarette out on the tabletop, she pulled a fresh one from the pack and put it in her mouth, but without lighting it. It dangled from her lips, bouncing as she spoke: "That long, at least, before he floated the idea of killin' his mama."

Amanda leaned forward. "It was his idea?"

Rhoda furrowed her brows. "I – I'mean, I dunno? He might've brought it up, but I was the one who stewed on it. I was the one with the means. When it was all said and done, I did it, but Vince was there. He knew."

Amanda's heart sank a little, knowing how badly Liv was attached to the idea of Rhoda as a victim.

"It took a while, to make real sure that Vince wanted it. Took more, to make the perfect circumstance. He didn't want Donna to be in pain, so the classic pillow routine was out . . . and even though I wasn't thinking 'bout the long term, then, we weren't looking to get caught right away either." She lit the cigarette. "Finally, I worked it all out: other nurse's schedules, the drugs, all the details. Vince made sure we did it on the first bad day Donna had after a good one; he wanted to make sure she had remembered him one last time, but not on the day she died.

"It was quiet. Painless. Quick. I had seen so many mothers die by that time," she shook her head, "and a lot of 'em not even so comfortable as Mama Donna. I put the meds in her IV, changed a few notes in her chart. Vince sat with her until they came to take her away to the morgue, holdin' her cold hand until they wheeled her out."

"What did you give her?" Liv asked, a pen poised over her notepad.

"Nembutal. Well, pentobarbital nowadays."

"There wasn't an autopsy?" Liv's voice was clipped, strictly business.

"No. It was hospice care – everyone in the place was dyin', and most of 'em didn't even have visitors. Once they died, people cared even less what caused it. She was moved, cremated and her file was closed by the time the bed and room were cleaned the next morning." More ashes fluttered to the floor, and Rhoda glanced at them expressionlessly. "I went with Vince when he scattered her ashes. It was near some pond that his mama liked to feed ducks. I remember thinking about what might happen if the ducks got it in their heads to eat the ashes. That was the day that Vince suggested we take off.

"He said he wanted to get out of Bad Axe; wanted to take his inheritance money and start a business somewhere where the hunting was good and the Winters were good and cold." She snorted, "Like it didn't get cold enough in Bad Axe to freeze your fuckin' ass off. My life had been the same, every day for nearly six years, so I didn't care much where I went or why. Any change seemed like winning the lottery.

"So I quit the long-term care home. For the first few weeks we were gone, I worried about throwin' up red flags, but I guess the other nurses assumed I had finally found some money to marry in Vince. They even gave me a farewell card like it was some grand romance. And to be honest, the first night we rolled up in the parking lot of some Super 8, I figured that was it – he was finally gonna make a move and I'd have'ta shit or get off the pot. We talked about sex for the first time that night.

"I tried to explain to him, how I felt about sex . . . and about men. I figured it was a toss-up whether he would nod and move on, or whether he'd kick me out on my own. Instead, he spun me his whole story about how he had a weird relationship with sex himself – not that I knew what that meant, then – and that maybe that was why we'd met in the first place.

"We left it at that, and cruised on into Adrian after a brief stop in Detroit. It didn't take as long as I'd imagined for Vince to get his car business going, but it did take some time for him to start turning enough of a profit to keep him from being on edge all the time. He wanted that cabin in the woods, and patience was never his strong suit. It wasn't long after that he started working on me, and the idea of helping me . . . sexually." Rhoda tamped out her second smoke and averted Liv and Amanda's eyes.

"It started out that he would tamper with the rentals, figurin' the women would have to return for service or to swap. But he didn't like the idea of attacking them in the shop, so he started combining the tampering with following them. When the women ran into car trouble, he would be johnny-on-the-spot. Then he'd knock 'em out, have his way, steal their wallets and let them go after threatening to hunt 'em down if they talked."

Liv's dark eyes were tired. "He told you he was assaulting and raping them?"

"Not in those words, but I knew what was going on."

Olivia exhaled heavily and scratched notes.

"After he had made off with enough, money-wise, he bought the cabin he wanted. That's when the women started comin' more regular. He'd bring them to the woods, and stretch his time with them over a couple days. One day he came home with medical supplies, sedative . . . explained to me he wanted me to keep the girls out of it while he . . . taught me. For a long time, all I did was watch. I guess Vince didn't want me sharin' in his fun, but after some time he had me join in. I also took over bein' the one who knocked 'em out on the highway, since Vince said I knew how to do it just so – hard enough to do the job, but not so hard that they needed nursing."

Liv narrowed her gaze. "How many women, Rhoda?"

"I never kept any real records," she replied, "but . . . includin' the ones before he bought the cabins, I'd ballpark nearly thirty."

Amanda sighed. "How many were killed?"

"Only the last three."

Olivia made a disgusted noise and sat up straighter. Ripping paper from the notepad, she pushed it across the table to Rhoda. "We're going to need names. As many as you can remember." Rhoda simply nodded. Liv flattened her palms on the table and leaned forward, her dark eyes on the unflinching woman. "Did Vince rape you, Rhoda? Did he – he beat you, threaten to kill you if you left? Were you too terrified to go to the police - or to tell him no?"

Rhoda's eyes widened as she was forced to look at Liv's face. "Wh – no! I mean, he grabbed my boobs once in a while, when he had a woman at the cabin and we were all together . . . but from day one to the end, Vince never did try'n fuck me. We both had access to the shotgun. He never beat me; only time he even raised his voice was when I fucked up, or he was impatient to get goin'."

"So you loved him?" Liv tried.

Rhoda made a face. "Not – not like that. Until you and your wife came along, I never met anyone in person who was – you know, like, like me. Who liked women."

"We're not – " Liv started, but Rollins hand grabbed her knee beneath the table and squeezed, hard, stopping her short.

Rhoda looked from the blonde, blue-eyed Rollins to the dark brunette, her own eyes pleading for a kind of commiseration. "I just didn't want to have nobody, like after Mama died."

Metal on concrete, Olivia pushed back her chair and got to her feet, her notepad fisted into a stranglehold. "I need a break," she announced flatly, and left the other two where they sat. Rhoda picked up Liv's abandoned pen and looked at the paper in front of her. Then she met Amanda's gaze.

"Could I have some coffee?"

Rollins got up. "I'll see what I can find," she said quietly, then made her own exit.

At the precinct's coffee station, Liv was pouring coffee into a styrofoam cup with trembling hands. She pushed the carafe noisily back into the coffee maker and rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead.

"I just don't get it," she said. "She could've left. At any time! She could've turned herself in, or let the women escape!"

Amanda poured coffee and grabbed sugar packs and creamers, letting Olivia get her frustration off her chest. They walked alongside each other, back in the direction of interrogation.

"I know you don't believe it's really that simple," Amanda told her gently. "D'you see how flat – how detached that woman is? She talks about rape and murder like she's being interviewed for a _People_ article!"

"That doesn't make it okay."

"Of course not. But I know you wanted her to somehow be less . . . complicit in it all. She's guilty; all I'm saying is, I can understand how the right catalyst could start somebody down a road like that."

They stopped at the two-way glass beside the interrogation room door. Liv looked at Rollins skeptically, then at Rhoda, scribbling away. "How's that?"

"Growing up somewhere you can't wait to get away from, bein' the least seen kid out of your siblings. Taking the obvious career choice and keepin' your head down, until something happens that you can't anymore. So you finally leave, but you have no idea how to be alone . . . I mean, truly alone, _not-needed_ alone. Then somebody comes along – anybody – and you just keep slammin' that square peg at the round hole, dyin' to fill up the empty place . . . until you realize that every morning after is just the same walk of shame.

"Knowing that you've always been different, but you kept yourself busy enough to not think about it. Never meeting anyone else that reassures you that you're not crazy, or out of place. All that takes a toll on a person," Rollins shrugged.

The look on Olivia's face was rather unreadable, so Amanda turned to the door with Rhoda's coffee. As she turned the knob, Liv murmured: "But you never assaulted or murdered anyone."

Rollins paused. "I could have gone a lot of other ways. Especially if I'd met someone like Vince in a vulnerable moment, who told me I was going to be fine. Who took me as I was."

The interrogation room door clicked shut softly behind Rollins, and Liv's gaze followed after her, through the glass.

**TBC**


	13. Circumstance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so very much for the kind comments received on the last chapter. Amilyn, what you said really meant a great deal to me. As for this chapter – hooboy, the ANGST is coming, folx! ANGGGGGST. Hold onto yer butts.
> 
> Read and review.
> 
> Rating: T, this chapter
> 
> Spoilers: None
> 
> Trigger warnings: alcohol, tense environment, confrontation

> _It's dangerous, to fall in love, but_
> 
> _I Wanna burn with you tonight_
> 
> _Hurt me_
> 
> _There's two of us, we're certain with desire_
> 
> _The pleasure's pain and fire_
> 
> _Burn me – Fire Meet Gasoline_ , Sia

Olivia was gazing out the window, at snow falling as softly and silently as if it was feathers instead of snow, when the knock came at the door adjoining her room to Amanda's. Liv rose from her seat on the foot of the bed, but Amanda opened the door and ducked inside sheepishly before Liv could cross to meet her.

In her hand, she had a bottle of red wine. Her smile seemed shy. "Hey," she said quietly.

"Hi."

They were still in Michigan, helping the Adrian PD with the long interrogation hours of Rhoda, any witnesses, and cross-checking victim cases. Carisi and Fin had also taken up residence at the hotel, on the floor above the girls. Liv didn't want to admit it, but she was finally missing New York; it was noisy, crowded and easier to forget the cases that bothered her there, than in the Midwest where the snow seemed to keep things so quiet and still.

"I thought maybe you might like some company," Rollins confessed, then looked away and added, "if not company, than at least the wine."

Too tired to be harsh with her, Liv motioned to the room at large. "Come in, Amanda."

She shut the door behind her and crossed to the desk, where complimentary wine stems and highballs were trayed and stuffed with stiff white linen napkins emblazoned with the hotel insignia. "It's a Malbec," Amanda announced as she passed off Liv's glass.

Olivia hummed throatily with appreciation as she tasted it, pleased that Rollins had picked something intensely-bodied. It went well with her pensive mood and the never-ending snow. "Thank you," she smiled.

Amanda took a seat on the rather inflexible loveseat across from the end of the bed. "How're you doin'?"

"I'm fine, just anxious to get back to Manhattan. I don't take well to anyone else running my squad." She turned back to the window. "I've also been wondering if this snow ever lets up."

"I'll never complain about a New York winter ever again, that's for sure," Amanda nodded, calculating Liv's gaze. "Been getting any sleep?"

She didn't want to lie to her. "Some," she murmured. "You?"

"Some," Rollins echoed. She drank from her glass, then asked, "Do you think you'll see Lindstrom when we get back?"

Taken aback, Olivia broke her stand-off with the snow and met the blonde's gaze. "That's . . . a strange question, coming from you. Considering how I know you feel about therapy."

"Doesn't mean it doesn't work for some people," she grinned, looking from over the rim of her wine glass.

Liv huffed out an attempt at a chuckle and sipped her drink. "I haven't decided yet, to be completely honest. I may not be able to get around it; One PP could just as easily order me – or both of us."

Rollins raised an eyebrow in sarcasm and shrugged. "Rhoda gave us the names of the women she could remember, along with as many approximate dates."

"Are they bringing in a team to look for the three bodies?"

"They're workin' on it, according to the department Captain, but it's gonna take time. The ground is frozen solid, and as we know, the snow is – well, deep," she explained. "It'll happen, we just might be long gone by then."

"Then we'll just have to come back," Liv said firmly. Amanda gazed into the deep red Malbec and chose not to say anything. "So what's the plan in the morning?"

"The DA here is going to speak with Rhoda's attorney and see where to go from here. I imagine they'll float some kind of deal, considering Rhoda's cooperation." A sour look crossed Liv's face and was gone, so Amanda mumbled, "I'm sure though, you'd rather they throw away the key on her."

"Amanda – " Liv sighed, then cut herself off and took a breath. "I just, I don't know how you do it, is all. Nearly five years on this job . . . everything that's happened to you, including and after Patton, and somehow you still see certain predators through this unimpeachable lens."

"Rhoda isn't a predator," Amanda replied calmly.

"She isn't a victim!" Liv snapped back.

"And that's just it, isn't it? You live in this world where the only people we deal with are predators, or victims. Seventeen years on this job has closed you off, Liv; you've got no middle ground left! People are good, bad – and sometimes both, at the same time. Our job isn't to hand out redemption to some and vilify the rest. Most people still deserve to be treated like people – and that's what I've tried to do with Rhoda."

The stormy-eyed brunette drained her glass and stalked to the bottle at the desk. "For someone who hates therapy, you sure sound like you've sat through some."

"Yeah, well, for someone who wants everyone to believe she's got everything figured out, you sure seem uncertain lately."

Olivia bristled, pushed her palms against the dark wood of the desktop. "Is this why you came over, Rollins?" she asked, her eyes closed, head dipped toward the table, "To give me another lecture on victims of circumstance?"

"I came over – " Amanda sighed, thought _because I miss being snowed in just the two of us._ "Because I'm worried about you," she finished aloud.

"I told you, I'm fine." Olivia could already feel herself deflating, but tried to appear impersonal. She felt tired, and guilty, and worse than that, still aroused when they were alone.

"Right. Fine," Amanda echoed, rising from the sofa. She took a few steps toward the desk. "Olivia Benson doesn't need anyone to be worried about her, right?"

"I prefer it that way," the brunette admitted, her fingertips flexing against the polished wood as her heartrate rose.

"I suppose now you're going to lie and say you also prefer not to need anyone," Rollins guessed. She closed the space between them, stood right behind the older woman with scant inches between them. Her wine stem slid onto the desk beside Liv's rigid hand with a low scrape. When she spoke again, her breath was close enough to gently move Liv's hair. "You don't _need_ anything, or anyone – is that right?"

The blonde punctuated the word 'need' with a fingertip, brushed down Liv's extended forearm, and watched as a shiver trembled through her in response.

Olivia licked her lips. "I – I don't." She remained utterly still, then, as Rollins moved aside the curtain of auburn hair that hid her neck from view and exhaled warmly over the nape. Liv willed her knees not to buckle.

The exhale was followed by the press of the blonde's form, tighter into the space Olivia was trying to occupy. The curve of her pelvis fit Liv's ass as though they had been made to spoon that way. Warm lips touched the line of Liv's neck then, making a mockery of all her denials as the apex of her thighs throbbed and flooded, _needing_ plenty. Amanda's hand moved to the front of Liv's throat, carefully pulling her back even further into her embrace, her kisses nipping and biting as much skin as she could reach. The other hand somehow found the feverish millimeter of skin between pants and shirt that granted access to the taut muscles of Olivia's belly, and she flattened her palm there, greedy for simply the feel of them touching.

Liv struggled to turn around in Amanda's arms, frantic to have her lips on her mouth. The wine glasses tipped in the fray of elbows and hands, scarlet liquor spilling over the desk and onto the carpet below them. The kiss was rapacious, severe, filled with the fear of loneliness as much as with carnal desire. In four fast years, the younger-by-a-dozen-years blonde had continuously fought her way into the secret space that Olivia tried to hide her weaknesses and forced her to keep picking up broken pieces to look at. She hated her for it.

She loved her for it, too.

All-consuming, their kiss was a life breath that they warred over, panting and gasping for air. Olivia wondered, vaguely, if just kissing could bring someone to orgasm, as the heaviness of arousal in her groin thundered.

Suddenly, like shards of ice in all that heat, Amanda's words from outside the interrogation room came back to Olivia: _Then somebody comes along – anybody . . . who told me I was going to be fine. Who took me as I was._

It was as if someone had turned a hose of cold water on Olivia, who stopped abruptly, bringing her hands up between them. "Amanda. Stop."

Dazed, the blonde pulled back, her pupils blown wide with adrenaline and desire. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I can't do this," Liv told her, stepping backwards out of the clutch of their arms.

"I – " Dumbfounded, Amanda stared and fought to breathe normally.

"Go to your room, Amanda. Please," Liv urged, then turned to pick up the wine glasses.

"Liv, what – what's wrong?" Rollins tried.

"Amanda." There it was – her self-protective tone was back. Her don't-argue-with-me tone. "I want you to leave."

She turned heel and walked away then, to the bathroom, where she pulled out a clean washcloth and ran cold water over it from the sink. When she returned, Amanda was still bewildered, now standing in front of the adjoining door. Her eyes, full to quivering with unshed tears, followed Olivia to the desk, where she grabbed a bottle of soda water from the glasses tray and knelt to the spilled wine on the carpet.

When it was clear she wasn't going to speak again, Amanda opened the door and went silently back to her own room. For long minutes, Olivia scrubbed soda water into the wine stain, ignoring the angry pulse of want in her centre.

"I can't be your square peg," she finally whispered.

**TBC**


	14. Modus and Motives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Read and review. Thank you for all of your incredible support. For the reader who asked about Amanda's memory, please see chapter 10, near the end, after the girls are admitted to the hospital. Sorry for any confusion.
> 
> Rating: T, this chapter
> 
> Spoilers: Closure, Scorched Earth, Justice Denied, Loss
> 
> Trigger warnings: suicide, death, hospital environment, grief, alcohol
> 
> Modus: In law, a modus or burden is present where a testator bequeaths something to a beneficiary, subject to a duty to perform in respect of the whole, or part of the bequest. Therefore, the beneficiary is required to do or deliver something (or not to do something) before they can enforce their rights.

Though she hadn't had a cigarette since her college days – which were literally decades behind her – Liv found herself wishing for one, the morning after her encounter with Rollins. In the driver's seat of her new rental car, she was parked in the lot of the Adrian PD building, with a steam-trailing coffee in her hand, watching the wipers catch snow.

  
At Siena, when she would party, she felt that lighting up gave her a dangerous, mysterious edge. The kind of guys she liked to talk to would separate more easily from the throng of alcohol-soaked bodies if there was a lone she-wolf to approach.

  
In reality, the haze of booze and cigarettes just made it easier to hide her inexperience and confusion. She had no real concept of how to flirt, and had been raised in a household where the altar worshipped at was career; sex was a danger you watched out for in dark alleys and over your shoulder. It absolutely was never tied to the concept of love, or healthy self-esteem.

  
Young-adult Olivia Benson generally had sex out of curiosity, boredom, or as a bargaining tactic, to deflect others from trying to get too close to her. At the end of those years, she could attest that the cigarettes she'd had, while leaned against brick walls in oversized blazers with shoulder pads, had been more enjoyable than most of the sex.

  
During and after the Academy, things had always been too busy to figure out how love and sex were supposed to coexist with her career. Liv had watched others around her on the force try, and fail. Ultimately, casual sex still seemed the best route – something she'd tried to get Cassidy to catch on to, all those years ago when they had first hooked up. Any time she had tried to build something deeper than that, it blew up in her face.

  
Then . . . then there was Elliot. Liv took a sip of coffee and a deep breath. 

  
No doubt it would surprise most who knew her, that the men she'd wanted to really _be_ with numbered less than the fingers of one hand. For 12 years, she had settled for what working with Elliot gave her – which, at times, had even been better than sex. The anger, the tension, the chemistry between them was enough to keep the entire precinct at arm's length, but in the end, it had blown up on her as well.

  
She blamed herself, until she got far enough from it to blame Elliot. But when things went wrong with David, well . . . she had packed up what was left of her interest in love, and settled into the familiar shoes of her mother: work, more work, and plenty of wine. Naïvely, sex with women wasn't even something that had presented itself as an option until well into her adult life – despite its tendency to be thrown at Olivia along the way in both seriousness and jest.

  
Before Amanda, there was another hard-edged blonde that had captivated Liv's attention. Liv had smiled over drinks, sported a leather jacket and hair shorter than her jaw for more than two years, and in the end, Alex Cabot had left her just as easily as men were known to do. Nowadays, nothing compelled Olivia to unlock the place she had put her thoughts of love to rest. She was 46 years old, and the raw truth of the matter was, she was too unsure of herself to let go and feel what Amanda was offering.

  
The younger blonde had already been up and gone to the police department with Fin and Carisi by the time Liv had gotten ready that morning. The faded wine stain on the carpet had mocked her from the corner of her eye, no matter where she'd stood in the room. She wanted Amanda Rollins as badly as she had ever wanted a cigarette, a fine wine, or any man.

  
In four years, she had witnessed the young blonde throw herself at father-figure men endlessly, the way Liv herself had when she was in high school. The words Rollins had spoken outside the interrogation room had painfully reminded Liv that what Amanda deserved was someone sure of themselves. Someone who was grounded and whole, ready to spend the time to spoil Amanda, to heal her and love her as loudly as possible. Olivia felt certain that opportunity for herself was gone by, be damned if she would interfere with someone else's chances to find what she never had.

  
_I'm doing the right thing_ , she told herself convincingly. _My career is where I'm needed. It's what I've always been good at._

  
Killing the engine, she pocketed her keys and grabbed her visitor tag for the building. Her coffee dispensed with the last of its steam as she walked quickly and determinedly into the police department. Flashing the tag at the front desk officer, she pushed through into the main squad room, looking around for her own people. The room was unusually quiet for so early in the day, with just a handful of cops huddled in a hushed circle near the back.

  
Liv crossed to, then through the doorway that led into the holding area, raising her head to find Fin, Carisi and the department captain standing close to each other in the hallway.

  
“Hey, Liv,” Fin offered, but he was somber, and Liv stopped short.

  
“What? What is it?” she asked.

  
Behind Fin, Carisi folded his arms over his chest awkwardly. “Rhoda killed herself, Liv. She's gone.”

  
Blinking was all Olivia managed for a moment. Then she continued forward a few steps, peering into the cell, fully expecting to see Rhoda's stiffening body, but the cell was empty. “Where is she?”

  
“Hospital,” Fin told her, “she was rushed there, but she didn't make it.”

  
“Where's Rollins?” 

  
“Amanda travelled with her; she's still with the body,” Fin explained.

  
_Fuck_ , Liv thought. She turned heel and started back from where she'd come in.

  
“Liv!” Fin called, “Want me to come with you?”

  
“Stay here,” she called back. To Amanda, she knew, Rhoda was anything but just ‘a body.’  
.

.  
There was no beep or murmur of medical equipment to greet Olivia when she entered the room that the unit nurse had directed her toward. The lights were off, and Amanda was lit by the glow of the hallway fluorescents as she sat, bedside, with her head dipped toward the floor. On the stretcher, Rhoda's body was covered by a sheet, and the remnants of lifesaving efforts littered the room's floor.

  
Liv stopped alongside the chair, a hand pressed to her mouth in both frustration and concern. After a beat or two, Amanda raised her hand without taking her eyes off the floor, revealing a folded piece of paper. Olivia took the note and stepped into a shaft of light to read it.

  
_Meeting you two has been the happiest thing to happen to me in maybe my whole life,_ she had written. _I wish I’d had the same chance when I was young, before things went wrong, to see someone else like me. My story mighta been different. I hope I helped you with everything I told you. Find those girls, do right by em, like you did by me. Maybe we'll meet again, the next time around. Til then, don’t you worry about an old fraud like me. – Rhoda_

  
The second slip of paper had a crudely-drawn map of the property between the two cabins in the woods, where it appeared the bodies had been buried. Olivia exhaled a shuddering breath, still unsure what to say.

  
It was Amanda who eventually spoke first: “Is it alright if I go back to the hotel?” Her voice was blank, leeched of all indication of her state of mind.

  
“Of course,” Liv swallowed. “I'll take care of everything.”

  
Without waiting on anything further, Rollins rose from the chair and went soundlessly from the room, leaving Olivia with the dead, full of her guilt and regret.  
.

.

The day had grown interminably long after the morning's discovery. Paperwork, statements, interviews were just the beginning. Even after the ADA determined what would happen in court, there would still be the bodies to deal with, and now the cabins and their effects.

  
Olivia let herself into her hotel room at the end of it all, clasping a brown paper bag with something inside resembling pasta salad, her feet throbbing in protest of standing. She kicked off her shoes, dropped her gloves, hat, coat and scarf on the loveseat and poured a glass of the remaining Malbec in one sweeping sequence of movements. Starving, she opened the pasta and began eating it, right at the desk in her bare feet with the wine.

  
In a couple short minutes, the container was nearly half empty, and her stomach had begun to quiet. She drank more wine, then finally let her body unclench from the day. It was then that she became aware of a muffled noise from the adjoining room. Olivia went still, listening, her mind immediately recalling the last noises heard through the same walls. Her ears grew hot with embarrassment, ashamed of her dirty secret.

  
It sounded nothing like before. Rollins' muffled voice sounded annoyed, and off-balance. Liv crept closer to the adjoining door and tried to hear more. Every couple of seconds, a word would come out clearly: . . . DEAL . . . NOT . . . JUST . . . not enough to make any sense.

  
Suddenly, Liv caught her breath, as she realized there were two voices in the room next door, and the second one was male. Heart pounding, she pressed her hands to the door, pleading telepathically with Amanda.

  
_No – Amanda, don't. Don't punish yourself like this. You don't need to do this._

  
“Do you want this, or not?!” the male voice suddenly came clear as a bell as he walked closer to the other side of the door.

  
_Tell him no_ , Liv thought angrily, _tell him to leave!_

  
“. . . rules . . . warned!” came Rollins' indistinct reply, “. . . decide . . . worth it!”

  
There was a silent moment, then a giggle that made Olivia's stomach knot with anxiety. She steadied her breathing, intending to talk herself into walking away, when the next sound she heard was the unmistakable sound of a slap.

  
“ . . . the _fuck off me!_ ” Amanda shouted next.

  
The door was open and Liv had crossed the threshold into the room before the decision to do so had even finished developing in her brain. The sound of the adjoining door swinging shut behind her brought both sets of eyes in the room directly to where she was standing. One hand was resting cautiously above her holstered gun as she levelled her gaze at the man.

  
“You heard what she said,” Liv told him icily.

  
It was one of the paramedics from the hospital; Liv recognized him from the day they had both been admitted. He was poised over Amanda on the bed, naked to his waist. Liv's stomach churned.

  
“Whoa! Relax, I'm up! I'm up!” he cried, scrambling from the bed.

  
Amanda got up as well, dressed in her bra and a pair of jeans, her hair mussed as anger and embarrassment flushed her cheeks. She tossed the man's shirt to him. “You can get out.”

  
“Don't worry,” he laughed, “you two are nuts, and it's not worth it!”

  
Neither woman spoke again as he dressed and left by the room's other door. At last, Amanda looked pointedly at Olivia without speaking, then went into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. The rattled brunette sighed shakily, swiping a hand over her face, then returned to her own room.  
.

.  
More than an hour passed, without any further noise from Amanda's room. Olivia had finished her food, along with the majority of the wine, then changed into comfortable pyjama shorts and an old t shirt. Curled up on the bed, she was focused on not thinking, wondering if sleep would come.

  
Another noise, then, different again. Still muffled – definitely singular; not the man come back. The ends of her nerves were still buzzing from earlier, so she didn't hesitate this time. The adjoining door clicked softly closed behind her as she glanced around to find Amanda was still shut in the bathroom.

  
Her bare feet whispered over the carpet as she creeped closer to the bathroom door. The sound, she determined, was the sniffling of Amanda crying. Olivia took a breath and knocked gently. “Amanda? Are you okay in there?”

  
The blonde sniffed, cleared her throat, but remained silent.

  
Liv waited, then tried again: “Can I do anything to help?”

  
Still nothing.

  
As a last effort, she asked, “Is it alright if I come in?”

  
Amanda's voice, hoarse and pained came: “Yeah.”

  
The door was unlocked and Olivia stepped inside to find Rollins completely naked, in a tub full of water that had long ago cooled off. Soft scents of soap and shampoo still lingered, but Amanda's eyes were dark with smudged mascara and red-rimmed from tears. Liv turned around quickly in her surprise, trying to afford her some privacy.

  
“Are you okay?” she tried again.

  
“Am I?” Rollins echoed, “I'm not sure I'm qualified to tell anymore.”

  
“I - I'm sorry, if I overstepped earlier.”

  
“It's fine. He lost his charm quicker than I'd anticipated,” she sniffed.

  
Jealousy and protectiveness pounded in Liv's chest. “Did he hurt you?”

  
“No.”

  
“Why don't you get out of that cold tub?” she suggested.

  
“I'm tired,” was Amanda's response.

  
Olivia moved to the cupboard, taking out a clean towel. Looking only at Rollins' face, she turned around to the tub and held out a hand. “C'mon.”

  
Amanda took the hand and rose from the water, dripping and covered in goosebumps. The older brunette wrapped the towel around her and then leaned to pluck the plug from the drain. When she rose to face her again, she said, “Amanda, I'm so, so sorry about Rhoda.” She waited for her to call her a liar, or maybe laugh in her face.

  
Instead, she said, “Me too,” weakly, and her eyes filled with tears again.

  
Liv folded her into a hug, rubbing the dry terrycloth of the towel into her chilled skin. “Let's go warm you up.”

  
She sat Amanda on the bed, then crossed to the thermostat and cranked up the heat. Still wrapped in the towel, Amanda drew back the layers of plush blankets on the bed, then allowed Olivia to tuck her in.

  
“Are you sure there's nothing else I can do to help you feel better?” Liv asked her softly.

  
“You can stop looking at me like that,” Amanda replied.

  
“Like what?”

  
“Like you still want me.”

  
Liv's heart slid into the base of her throat, not expecting the answer to have hurt so much. With a sigh, she let herself drop onto the edge of the bed, sitting alongside Rollins as though she were an unruly child who insisted on pressing her buttons. “We probably shouldn't discuss this while you're not yourself,” she murmured.

  
“I'm always _me_ ,” Amanda told her indignantly, “good, bad and everything in between. It's all _me_ , Olivia. But then, maybe that's what’s so hard for you.”

  
Liv shook her head helplessly. “What can I do - right now - to help?”

  
“I don't want to feel this. It was better when there were things I couldn't remember,” Rollins said, her voice quavering.

  
Her gaze flickered from Rollins' face, to the empty space in the other side of the bed. “Just – ” Liv closed her eyes, “let me stay.”

  
The blonde pulled the top of the blankets down in reply, and it was all Olivia needed. She slipped into the bed and spooned herself against Amanda's cool, damp body and closed her eyes.

**TBC**


	15. Sacred Vices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M
> 
> Spoilers: None
> 
> Trigger warnings: sexual themes, smoking, alcohol, hangover

Several hours after falling asleep, Olivia woke to find the room desperately hot. She threw off the covers, her skin clammy with perspiration, pyjamas sticking. Swinging her feet to the floor, she padded across the carpet and turned down the thermostat from the blazing temperature she had earlier set.

  
When she turned back to the bed, she caught her breath and stood still. Amanda had extracted herself from Liv's embrace when she'd gotten overheated. Since then, she had kicked the blankets down and off, and rolled to her back. The towel that she had been wrapped in had pulled free, and she was splayed on her side of the bed completely naked.

  
Olivia's hands clenched into fists as her heart began to thud painfully in her chest. Christ, she was gorgeous. Liv felt nauseous at the knowledge that she had come so close to having her, before pushing her away. Her cheeks were pinked with the heat in the room, and her wavy blonde hair was mussed over the pillow as she breathed, quietly and even. The lines of Rollins body were somehow sharp and full all at once – the expanse of her throat exposed, the soft peaks of her breasts and sweet, small pink nipples.

  
Step by awed step, Olivia made her way back to her side of the bed and laid atop the sheets, damp with her sweat. She reached out a hand, letting it hover maybe three inches above where Amanda's body actually was, and let the hand travel in ghostly silence, over the rise of her breasts, then the silky soft skin of her belly. Her hips were tilted slightly away from Liv's body, and there was a neat, short thatch of dark blonde hair at her mons. Still hovering, the hand cut the air above the sharp hip bone, on down over the muscle of the blonde's upper thigh.

  
The breath she inhaled was hot and shuddering, her own sex throbbing in petulant want, to wake up her bed partner with a push between her thighs, driven mad with the need to know what she tasted like. What would her tongue taste, sliding up the pearlescent slickness of her centre, parting her labia and mouthing over her clit until saliva trickled from shimmering strands at the tip of her tongue? Would Amanda scream her name? Would she tangle her slender fingers in her dark hair and push Liv's face into her wetness, demanding her tongue?

  
_Cut the shit_ , the brunette told herself. _You ruin everything, so get over it._

  
She pulled her hand back from midair, still trying to get control of her heartrate and sighed tersely. The pillow was cool beneath her cheek when she stretched out and pulled it into her arms, stomach pushed to the mattress. Inside her pyjama shorts, she was wet and full with her impotent desire. She closed her eyes to Amanda's peaceful, slumbering face and waited for sleep to return.  
.

.  
The next time Olivia's eyes snapped open, the room was much more tepid, and she was alone in the bed. She leaned up on her elbows to see that the bathroom door was open, and knew without calling out that Amanda was gone. After a scalding hot shower, Liv was dressed and on the way out to her car when she noticed a smoke shop in the corner of the hotel lobby. She diverged from her brusque walk to the exit and stopped in front of the shop's counter.

  
“Marlboro Menthols,” she said from muscle memory, then added sheepishly, “lights.”

  
“King size alright?” the clerk asked.

  
Embarrassed, she nodded, and grabbed a pack of hotel insignia matches from the bowl on the counter. She was tearing the cellophane from the box even as she pushed out the front entrance. Stopping at her rental, she pulled a match, struck it and cupped her hands around the smoke between her lips to light it.

She coughed out the majority of the first draw, her eyes watering and her lungs burning in protest. It was just as gross as it had ever been, but Olivia didn't care – it was the rebelliousness of it that mattered, the control of the choice.

  
When she had smoked about half of it, she tamped it out in the snow next to the car and tossed it in the nearest trash can before getting in the car and continuing on to the Adrian PD to finish the case.  
.

.  
Seated around a conference table were Adrian PD's top-tier cops, the DA, and four New York City transplants who were very obviously out of place. It had taken most of the day to iron out where things were, and they had all consumed enough coffee to fuel a battalion.

  
The families of the three women who had been murdered were all filing wrongful death suits against Vincent Messervey's estate. A forensics team and an excavator had been requested to recover any remains on the cabin property, and Vincent's rental business had been seized to be liquidated into the estate's value.

  
Olivia had taken on the task of cross-referencing the files for all the living victims; she would be in contact to follow up and ensure the women were aware of Vincent's death, that they had access to proper counseling and support systems. She had assigned Fin the task of checking states other than Michigan and New York for any similar reports or unsolved rapes. To Liv's distinct displeasure, Rollins had assigned herself to the task of informing Rhoda's sisters of her passing.

  
“At this point, folks, what we've got is headaches and a mountain of paperwork,” the Captain sighed. “We're fully prepared to keep Manhattan SVU in the loop on our end. I only wish that things had played out differently.”

  
“Well, I'm sure everyone here is on the same page with that thought, Captain,” Olivia assured him. “And if there is anything further that we need, or can do to help manage the fallout, don't hesitate to contact us. We continue to be at your disposal.”

  
When they stepped outside the police department the sun had already mostly set, leaving thin streaks of deep purples and light oranges in the sky.

  
“Join us for some dinner, Liv?” Fin asked.

  
“I appreciate the offer,” Liv smiled politely, “but all I really want is a hot bath and a full night's sleep.”

  
“Sure thing. “ He nodded, and Liv watched the three of them pile into Fin's car.

  
Her response had been a sin of omission rather than an outright lie: she did run a hot bath as soon as she got back to her hotel room. She poured in an obscene amount of bubble bath and soaked for a long time, purposefully ignoring her body's need to get off – a self-punishment she most often prescribed when she felt it was deserved for her own bad judgement.

  
Afterward, she ordered dinner with another bottle of wine from room service, and ate on the bed in the robe, decadently, using only her fingers and drinking the wine right from the bottle. For pyjamas she threw on an oversized t-shirt that hung low enough to not require bottoms, then pulled the pack of Marlboros from her bag. Liv shrugged on her jacket and a pair of slippers, then stepped out onto the tiny, freezing veranda that came with her courtyard view.

  
This time, she didn't cough as much. The stars twinkled down in their comforting impartiality, and she attempted to count as many as she could until the cigarette made her too dizzy to go on. Somehow, the room seemed that much lonelier when she returned inside. Amanda's room had been utterly silent all evening, and Olivia imagined that she was still out with the guys, challenging Fin to shots at the bar and pretending to be oblivious to Carisi's lovesick gaze.

  
“Like you've got the room to talk,” she scoffed, scolding herself and swigging from the wine bottle.

  
Haphazardly, she began to pack up her things for the return to New York while she became drunker and drunker. The undertaking ended with her crawling into the bed next to the empty bottle on the nightstand and sleeping aslant, snoring softly into the pillow.  
.

.  
Thunderous knocking pelted Liv's hotel room door, causing her to advance from the mess of blankets like a startled hare.

  
“Mother of _God_ ,” she hissed, as blood rushed to her temples, setting off a thumping that forced her eyes closed.

  
It took monumental force to extricate herself from the bed and make it to the offending door. On the other side of it stood Carisi – or, at least, what looked like Carisi through squinted eyes.

  
“Lieu?”

  
“Whattayouwant Carisi?” she mumbled.

  
“Uh - you're . . . I mean we're . . . running late,” he replied cautiously. “Are you okay?”

  
Olivia made an effort to open her eyes a bit wider. “What do you mean, late?”

  
“Oh, uh – Rollins didn't tell you?” he frowned.

  
Annoyance was creeping into her tone. “Tell me what?” 

  
“She and, uh, Fin left late last night to drive to Detroit and fly back to New York. You and I are supposed to be on our way, today.”

  
If he only could've known how much that was to unpack in such a short time in the doorway. Hungover and reeling, Liv asked, “What time is it?”

  
“Almost noon,” he said, trying to sound appropriately sympathetic.

  
“Give me ten minutes,” she told him, and shut the door without waiting for another reply.

  
Hungover at 46 was definitely not comparable to hungover at eighteen. Her efforts to dress and make sure hadn't forgotten to pack anything were performed as if wading through wet cement. By the time she had put on her coat and grabbed her room card, she half expected Carisi to start knocking again. Instead, he was hovering in the dim hallway with his hands shoved in his pockets.

  
He took her suitcase without asking, and trailed along behind her to the front desk, then to her rental in the parking lot where he loaded the case into her trunk before climbing into the passenger seat.

  
“There's a nice bagel place on our way out to the highway, if you don't mind stopping,” he said lightly, “my treat, if you're hungry.”

  
“Just coffee,” Liv muttered. “The biggest one they've got.”

  
Carisi handed her an extra large, hot coffee with milk when he returned to the car from the local deli. In his hand he clutched a bagel virtually exploding with cream cheese, wrapped in white tissue paper stained with grease. Immediately the car smelled like garlic and fresh sourdough. Olivia sighed and cracked the window, trying to settle her stomach.

  
Carisi buckled up, noticing the pack of cigarettes and the matches that Liv had tossed into the center console. “You sure you're alright, Lieu?” he tried again.

  
Liv swallowed a gulp of coffee with the ibuprofen that she'd pulled from her bag. “Carisi?” she said vacantly, her temples pulsing maniacally.

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Why don't you put on a podcast or something?” she told him, making it clear that it wasn't exactly a suggestion.

  
He turned his attention back to his bagel and adjusted his seat for his gangly legs, deciding the safest option was to keep his mouth shut until they were in sight of Manhattan.

**TBC**


	16. Tilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some important notes at this point, Constant Readers – first, I had originally stated that this fic takes place mid-season 17, AFTER “Star-Struck Victims,” but I need to amend that. Starting this chapter, we are S17, AFTER “Catfishing Teacher,” and BEFORE “Star-Struck Victims.” Also, this story entirely ignores the S17 existence of Tuckson, as well as Liv & Amanda's kids.
> 
> Spoilers: Townhouse Incident, Nationwide Manhunt, Collateral Damages, Star-Struck Victims
> 
> Trigger warnings: references to rape and weapons, symptoms of PTSD, confrontation, bar setting, alcohol, smoking, arguing, handcuffs

* * *

Tilt: a poker slang term that is often used to describe the angry or frustrated emotional state of a player. We commonly associate **tilt** as the result of simply taking a bad beat or losing a big pot. When that **tilt** sign lit up, it meant **game** over. . . . 

* * *

If it had been Olivia's expectation that things would return to something like normal once she made it back to Manhattan, well – there was no word yet for how terribly let down she would be. The new year had hardly begun before Olivia had once again found herself on the wrong end of a gun barrel. One PP forced her to take some time off after the townhouse incident, and Lindstrom was required to sign off on her coming back. She of course never told Lindstrom that her flashbacks and nightmares weren't limited to just the most recent episode of terror.

  
Around the middle of February, things were just beginning to get back into a kind of recognizable groove when Greg Yates began asking to see Rollins. Amanda, of course, didn't hesitate for a second, but Liv had intended on putting her foot down. Things between the two had remained tense since the return from Michigan, though, and Liv worried if she pushed too hard, it would just make it worse. So she relented, but sent Carisi instead of going along herself, not sure she could refrain from taking her frustrations out on Yates. She knew, of course, that telling her ‘no’ once Yates got his transfer was just going to piss Amanda off. But Liv's gut was telling her that something was about to go down, and she didn't want Amanda anywhere near it when it did.  
And she was right.

  
Yates and Rudnick were responsible for the nationwide manhunt that ensued, and Bronwyn Freed's involvement stirred up far too many Lewis-centered memories for Liv's liking. So, she could hardly be surprised when Rollins stuck her neck out to work the Teddy Hawkins sting; Olivia knew that the guilt and anger from the Yates case was catching up to the stubborn blonde. Not to mention, the Vincent Messervey case was still plagued with loose ends.

  
The Hawkins takedown snowballed, and it turned things upside-down. By the time Liv was done catching Pippa's crash over her marriage catching fire, and navigating the media fallout from Hank Abraham going away, she found her thoughts turning more and more to what Lindstrom had insinuated.

  
_What would happen if you stopped?_

  
_I can't._

  
_You just said it's an endless cycle._

  
_Yes, but I - I don't feel that way. I have hope._

  
But did she? As she sat in Bobby D'Amico's office, listening to the same old hot air from the Good Ol' Boys' Club that she'd been hearing for seventeen years, Olivia had to wonder how much of her was really in the game anymore.  
.

  
.

“Rollins, my office, please.”

  
Olivia was livid - the entire squad knew it, and Liv knew they knew it. She also didn't care. The D'Amico and Panko trial loss had been enough of a blow without having to now clean up more shit off the rug.

  
Rollins entered the office her expression a pastiche made up of the events since December. “Liv, I swear to God, I did not leak that video.,” she blurted.

  
“So I'm supposed to believe you now? You went undercover without informing me. This is another example of you asking for forgiveness instead of permission,” Liv rebuked.

  
“But I - Liv, wait – wait, I've . . . ” Amanda stuttered, stumbling over her anxiety and indignation, “No, no, no - I'm not asking for forgiveness, because I didn't do anything!”

  
“Please stop,” Liv replied flatly.

  
“The defense, the judge, Barba, all had access to that video; literally dozens of people could have turned it over.”

  
Olivia scoffed. “We know the defense didn't do it, Amanda, so I hope you're not _seriously_ suggesting that it was Barba.” 

  
“Well, I just know it wasn't me.”

  
Rollins refused to relent, and Liv was so pissed she couldn't even bring herself to sit down. “You know, I thought that things would change after Yates. I thought that you would _think_ before you acted. I was hoping to get past my trust issues with you, and now this.”

  
Amanda reeled slightly at the mention of trust issues, wondering how much of the Messervey cabin and the Michigan hotel were bleeding into Liv's accusations. “I swear, on my badge, that I _did not_ do this.”

  
“You know there's gonna be an investigation, don't you? They're gonna go through your cell phone, your computer – ”

  
“That's fine!” the blonde cut in, unconcerned. 

  
“Yeah, is it? Not to mention that Buchanan is gonna bring on a lawsuit!”

  
It was Amanda's turn to scoff. “Really? You think D'Amico's gonna want to sue over a video that shows him trying to rape me?”

  
A firm knock announced Dodds opening the office door. “Am I interrupting?”

  
“Yeah,” Rollins rolled her eyes, irked at his disregard of the obvious.

  
“No.” Olivia barked, “Rollins and I are done.”

  
Embarrassed and uncertain, Rollins left Dodds in her wake, returning to the bullpen where the news insisted on playing the video of her bad behavior on permanent loop.

  
“She just stood there, and she lied to my face,” Olivia sighed, finally dropping into her chair, “ - and I don't know what to tell your father, because she swears that she didn't leak the video.”

  
“I believe her,” Dodds rumbled calmly.

  
His dark-haired Lieutenant paused, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

  
The look on the young man's face told Liv that Michael Dodds was the Dodds son who always got away with his wrongs using a smile and a song. “Because I know who did. Don't worry - it can't be traced,” he informed her.

  
The stress she was carrying hit its upper limit, and her stomach dropped as she caught her breath. _Oh no_ , she thought, _oh no._ “What are you telling me?”

  
“I don't want to put you between me and my father, so you might want to stop asking questions,” Dodds warned her.

  
“Okay . . . ” 

  
“Bobby D'Amico got what he deserved,” he told her, his eyes brimming over with disgust. “Told you I never liked the guy.”  
.

  
.  
By the time Olivia settled her anger and frustration, she stepped out of her office to find Amanda already gone. Fin noticed her expression fall at the blonde's absence.

  
“She said she was headed home,” he told her, “but . . . she was pretty upset, so it's hard to say.”

  
“Thanks, Fin,” Liv sighed.

  
He walked out with her not long after that, and urged her to get some sleep. Sliding behind the wheel of her SUV, she dropped her head to the headrest and took a deep breath. She knew sleep wasn't coming until she gave Amanda the apology she deserved. Going undercover without discussing it, yeah okay, it had been wrong, but she didn't leak the tape. Not to mention the tape was the only justice ensuring D'Amico wouldn't be playing any more bathroom games.

  
The unfinished pack of Marlboros were in the glovebox, and Liv's gaze flickered there. She had smoked just one since her return to Manhattan - after being held hostage in January – but something about discussing emotions with Amanda drove her back to the clandestine vice.

  
Olivia drove to Rollins' building, unsurprised to see the windows dark. She texted the blonde's cell, but wasn't overly hopeful for a response. In the meantime, she retrieved the menthols and lit one up, smoking it leisurely with the driver's window cracked, mingling the chilly mid-winter air with the escaping smoke. She had finally pulled away from the curb when she was startled by the ding of an incoming text.

  
**No, but you should be** , Amanda had replied to Liv's asking if she was asleep.

  
**Tell me where you are** Olivia returned.

  
**You're not my boss after we're clocked out, remember?**

  
“Jesus Christ, Amanda,” Liv muttered aloud, “do you always have to be such a child?”

  
**We need to talk** she sent, trying bluntness on for size.

  
There was another silent vacuum as she waited to see if Amanda would reply. Then came: **I heard you loud and clear once already today.**

  
**Please, Amanda. I made a mistake.** Olivia's breathing was shallow as she hit send and hoped for a surrender. 

  
The next message was an address, to a grungy bar just a few blocks from Rollins' apartment. Olivia had to squint through the dim when she stepped into it, as the décor looked as though it hadn't been updated since Reagan was in office. It wasn't difficult to locate Amanda, her being the only patron in the bar under the age of 50 – and the most beautiful woman in the room.

  
“Evening, Lieutenant,” Rollins smirked as Liv walked up alongside her seat at the bar. “You always could've just tracked my cell I guess, if I hadn't answered.” She didn't want to start off by chastising her, so Olivia let it slide. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  
“No, thanks, but I'll pick up your tab if you like, since it's my fault you're here.”

  
Amanda raised an eyebrow. “You think everything I do has to do with you?”

  
“No,” Liv inhaled sharply, trying to hold on to her patience, “not at all. Can we go somewhere and talk?”

  
“We are somewhere,” the stubborn blonde quipped. She turned finally, to look at Olivia more directly. Her blue eyes were all defiance and wounded pride – the exact opposite of Dodds' approach to absolution.

  
“Somewhere _else_ ,” Liv amended, raising a hand to the bartender. She pulled out her wallet and passed them a card when they approached. “Swipe whatever she owes and add a tip,” she instructed.

  
Rollins slipped from her barstool and put her hands in her pockets. “Your place? Or mine . . . boss?” 

  
Goddamn if the woman didn't know how to push every one of her buttons. “Yours,” Liv told her as she ushered her toward the exit.

  
As Amanda made an unsteady climb into the SUV, she spied the Marlboros that Liv forgot were tossed on the dash. “You been holdin' out on me,” the blonde smirked, nearly giggling. “Can I smoke in here?” she asked, pulling one from the pack.

  
“Suit yourself,” the older woman shrugged, picking her battles. “I only have matches, though.”

  
“Not a problem,” Rollins mumbled with the smoke in her lips. She lifted her hips from the seat and dug in her pocket, producing a gunmetal gray zippo that had the filigree of an Ace card engraved on it. Open-mouthed, Liv watched Amanda flip it open and light up as a jolt of arousal tightened through her groin. “Menthols, though?” the Georgia peach drawled with a chuckle after her first draw.

  
Olivia drove them back the short blocks to Amanda's place, then followed her up to her door without saying a word. Frannie met them excitedly in the doorway, tail ticking like the happiest metronome as her mother freshened her water and got her something to eat.

  
“Amanda,” Liv began, “I want to say that I'm sorry.”

  
“Can I ask for what?” Rollins replied, putting away the dog food.

  
“For not believing you, about leaking the tape. I should have . . . taken a step back, and been more objective.”

  
Amanda looked at her, less glibly this time. “Sometimes, being objective about every damn thing can do more harm than good. But thank you, for the apology.”

  
“Look, I _know_ that what you did helped stop those two dirt bags from getting away with everything,” Liv conceded. “But it doesn't change the fact that you insist on taking huge risks, Rollins. What would've happened, if – ”

  
Amanda rolled her eyes. “God, y'know, all the time you spend frettin' about ‘what if,’ Liv – it didn't! And now it's done, so . . . ”

  
“But there's always a next time!” Olivia interjected, raising her voice. “Right, Amanda? Any time there's the slightest open for you to put yourself in harm's way – especially around powerful, unstable men – there you are! Always ready to use your sexuality to prove a point!”

  
The blonde's mouth was a surprised, round ‘o' before it turned up into another sardonic smirk and Rollins threw up her hands. “Oh, I got it now. That's what this is about! ‘Cause we all know how uncomfortable _you_ get whenever there's sex involved that isn't rape!”

  
Olivia shot Amanda a severe look. “I – what?!”

  
“If it's rape,” she said, taking a step toward the brunette, “you can help. You can file a report, or get a confession. You can hold somebody's hand and direct them to some therapy,” she went on, her tone mocking. “But if it's just sex? Fun, hot, heart-pounding, wall-knocking sex – you button up like a schoolmarm.”

  
Liv's blood was rushing as her temper began to spin out. “Ok,” she scoffed, breathless, “when did we stop talking about work and start talking about your interpretation of my sex life?”

  
“ _What_ sex life?!” Amanda cried, and it pierced Olivia, dead-center of the bullseye.

  
“Is that what everything has been about?” Liv asked, and closed the distance between them by another few steps. “Going upstate to let Yates leer at you? Volunteering to prime Teddy Hawkins? Hmm? You went to Bobby D'Amico's bar and practically got on your knees to – what? Prove a point that I'm some kind of prude?” She laughed, but it was hollow and trembled with anger.

  
“Actually,” Rollins said curiously, “I was going to say because you're a coward, but it sounds to me like you're just jealous.” She put her hands on her hips and held her ground, her heart trip-hammering as Olivia stepped right up into her face.

  
“Jealous?” she smirked with disbelief, her eyes dark, “Of the attention of a serial killer, a pedophile and a rapist? _Please_.”

  
“No,” Amanda shook her head, “jealous of the way they get to touch _me_.” She saw the subtle shiver that went through Liv's expression. _Bingo_. “I saw the look on your face when you watched that tape – watching D'Amico push me up against that wall . . . driving his knee between my legs,” she crooned, “hard as a rock, hands tryin' t'creep under my shirt – ”

  
“Stop it.”

  
“ – I bet you're wonderin', even now, ‘Was she wet? Does she get turned on for men the same way she does for women?’”

  
Olivia's mouth had run dry. The game had gone tilt and she was in way over her head.

  
“Well, guess what, Lieutenant?” Rollins went on, leaning in so that her next words were a whisper next to the brunette's ear: “I offered you the opportunity to find out, and you turned it down, so now you're shit outta luck.”

  
She turned away and dragged in a ragged breath, intending to go into the bedroom. Before she could make a step, though, she felt Olivia's hand encircle her wrist. The next thing she knew, Amanda was slammed into the nearest wall of her living room, face-first as if she was a perp. The other woman's weight was pressed right up against her, and she could feel Liv’s jagged breaths each time her chest rose into her back.

  
Handcuffs clicked audibly onto her wrists, then, and the blood in her body drained earthward as the angry brunette husked out, “You wanta know what I wonder about, Amanda? Let me show you.”

**TBC**


	17. Wild Shores

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I strongly recommend reading this with a bottle of water nearby. You will require hydration. I may have outdone myself, here. Let me know if it was worth the wait. 😉
> 
> Rating: MA, NSFW
> 
> Spoilers: None
> 
> Trigger warnings: handcuffs, rough sex, hair-pulling, strap-on, biting, marking, dirty talk, oral sex, use of the c-word, spanking.

Amanda was pinned to the cool wall of her living room, tight enough that her breasts were crushed into her. Olivia's handcuffs cut into the flesh at Rollins' wrists, shackled behind her back. The weight of Liv's body pressing into her was at once suffocating, and incomprehensibly erotic. She was uneasy, but also on fire.

  
“You know, Amanda . . . ” Liv murmured, still speaking into her ear – close enough that the warmth of her breath made the blonde's eyes roll backward, “you're not entirely wrong. I _do_ get jealous when you let those excuses for men touch you.” She trailed a finger down the side of Rollins' ribcage, smirking when she struggled in response. “It makes me think of how much I wish I could _break_ their _fingers_.”

  
Olivia punctuated the emphasized words with subtle grinds of her pelvis against Amanda's ass, satisfied when she heard her gasp weakly. Letting up, she turned her by the shoulder so they were face-to-face, handcuffed hands trapped behind her back. The blue eyes that locked onto Liv's face were unsteady, but it was clear that the stubborn defiance hadn't burned out of them, yet.

  
A hand snaked up the nape of Rollins' neck, long fingers tangling in wavy, cornstraw strands. “You talk a good game, but . . . ” the hand yanked, and Amanda growled as her head was held back, exposing her throat, “when it comes to women, I don't think you're nearly as self-assured.” Liv bit into her neck, harder than Rollins was expecting, and the nervous blonde yelped out a startled curse.

  
“I _know_ you want _my_ attention,” Olivia continued, alternating sharp bites with warm kisses down the length of her neck, “and you know what?” She pulled back, bringing her other hand up, trailing a finger into the dip where Amanda's cleavage began. “I think . . . that . . . scares you to death,” she finished slowly, caressing the inner sides of her breasts softly.

  
Rollins caught her breath and held it, refusing to moan. When she opened her eyes next, Liv was looking straight into them. “I know it scares _me_ ,” Olivia confessed, then kissed her, nearly as aggressively as she had bitten.

  
Just like that, it was the kiss in the hotel room all over again: ravenous, smothering as they wrestled over oxygen along with lips and tongues. Rollins couldn't get her mouth open wide enough, taking broad sweeps from Liv's full tongue then chasing after it to suck it in entirely. She wanted to taste her for the rest of her life. At the same time, though, she continued to buck against Liv's control, trying to push away from the wall, out from the brunette's grasp, resulting in a pull of hair in her fingers for each grunt and wriggle.

  
Unfazed, the older woman shrugged her coat from her shoulders, letting it slide down to the floor. It was so easy for Olivia, to slip back into her casual rough sex place; it was the place she kept just for times like this, when sex was inevitable but emotions needed to be at arm's length. Being the one in control was her only safety mechanism when things got too close.

  
Liv pulled her shirt off, then turned her attention back to Rollins, planting her hands on her hips and sliding them under the blonde's sweater. Without a bit of grace, Liv pushed the sweater and bra underneath up together, cupping the weight of Amanda's pale breasts. “You're not entirely on the mark about my relationship with sex, though,” Liv pointed out, grazing the pads of her thumbs up and over the straining peaks of her nipples.

  
 _I'm beginning to see that,_ Amanda thought wildly, wondering weakly how much longer she would be able to resist vocally responding to Olivia's touch.

  
“So tell me,” Liv said huskily, “what kind of toys does a wild girl like you have around here for me?” She caught the younger woman's gaze, grinning when she saw her blushing with embarrassment. “Ah, see? Don't hold out on me, Amanda,” she warned, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “I want to see your mouth wrapped around me, taking me down your throat.”

  
Rollins felt lightheaded with the shock of hearing those words leave Olivia's mouth. “Oh my God!” she gasped on an inhale.

  
Then she was turned to face the wall again, and she could feel Liv’s hands between her waist and the wall, opening her jeans. Amanda put her forehead to the wall, fully panting now and not caring. Two-handed, the jeans and underwear were yanked down together to mid-thigh as Amanda trembled. 

  
“Spread your legs.”

  
She complied, and then felt Liv press into her again, could distinguish the feel of Liv’s warm skin and material of her bra against the exposed skin of her back, the feel of dress pants against her bare buttocks.

  
“If I uncuff you, are you going to behave?”

  
Amanda bit her lip, kept her head down and against the wall, refusing to give the woman any promises. 

  
Olivia spanked her.

  
“ _Ffuck_!” Rollins mewled, jumping under the bite of Liv's palm.

  
“Amanda?” she prompted.

  
“Yes!” she growled, and stood still as Olivia released her. Her arms trembled with relief as she stretched them.

  
“Put your hands on the wall,” Liv instructed.

  
The blonde hesitated, but not long enough for it to be transgressive, then put her hands up and spread as if for a pat down. When Olivia Benson crouched behind her, Amanda was so nervous for a moment that she thought she'd faint. A long, slender middle finger entered the cleft of her labia, curious as though testing the waters. She gave in, moaning deep in her throat as the finger assessed how hard her clit was, before sliding lower.

  
“God, Amanda,” Liv groaned as she pushed back to her feet. “You're _drenched_ ,” she hissed into her ear, and caused Rollins’ knees to buckle as she slid the finger into Amanda's own mouth. Catching the blonde around the waist, she kept her on her feet so that she could bring the other hand back between her legs.

  
Pushing into the wall pinned Olivia's hand tight to Amanda's pelvis as her middle finger covered her throbbing clit and rubbed it, slowly, making it impossible for the younger woman to aid in her own relief. The strokes were grazing, long, painfully pleasurable.

  
“Unh,” Rollins panted repeatedly, “unh. Unh. Unh.”

  
“I want you to come,” Liv explained, “so you can concentrate on what's next.” When Amanda didn't reply, Olivia asked, “Are you going to say my name?”

  
“Unh. Un . . . no,” Rollins refused.

  
“Yes.”

  
“No. Unh!”

  
“ _Yes_ ,” Olivia repeated.

  
“No!” Rollins insisted, and let out a joyful sob of triumph as she shook in Olivia's embrace, coming so hard she saw stars in the black expanse behind her eyelids.

  
“You will, though,” Olivia promised, biting gently at the bottom of Amanda's earlobe. “Come on.”  
.

  
.  
Light spilled in from the living room, illuminating Amanda's bedroom softly. She gave up her secrets easily, showing Liv to the place she stashed her selection of implements of pleasure. Wordlessly, she watched as Liv shucked her pants and bra, then adjusted the strap-on harness and slipped it on over her underwear, tightening it over her hips.

  
There was an overstuffed armchair in the corner behind her, and the brunette backed up until she could drop into it. Meeting Amanda's bright blue eyes, she crooked a finger. “C'mere.” Rollins crossed to her and stood between Olivia's open knees. “Take the rest of your clothes off,” Liv chuckled, watching as she obeyed.

  
Taking both of Rollins' hands, she helped her straddle over her waist in the chair. Liv watched Amanda's flushed face as she grasped the cock between her legs and pumped it in her fist. Amanda's tongue flicked out to lick her lips, trying to anticipate Liv's next move. Then the thick, cool head of the soft silicone shaft slid downward, along the swollen valley between the lips of her cunt. Still guiding it, Olivia brushed the head against Amanda's clit, stroking with her hand the generous wetness that was coating it as she teased. Eyes closed, Rollins’ hands went to her own breasts, pinching roughly at her nipples in frustration.

  
When she was satisfied – and amused – Liv said, “Now take it in your mouth.”

  
Amanda moved backward off her lap, then settled on her knees, leaning up and moaning quietly as she realized her mouth was watering. There was fire banked in Liv's eyes as she watched her wrap her hand brazenly around the shaft and then pop it in her mouth. Without hesitation, she lowered her mouth until she could lower no further, breathing deeply through her nose and shivering with ecstasy when she realized she could smell how aroused Liv was inside her underwear.

  
In hopes of praise, Amanda performed with enthusiasm – varying sucking with stroking and licking, audibly popping it from her mouth then repeating until the toy and the edge of her hand was a wet mess. Slowly, she kissed and crawled her way up Olivia's torso, until she could finally take one of the brunette's hard nipples into her mouth. She was rewarded with the first sign of Liv's control slipping, as the older woman arched beneath her, fingers gripping the chair's arms.

  
Spurred on by the response, Amanda got brave and nudged her knuckles under the strap-on, into the swollen, damp cloth of Liv's underwear.

  
First she was rewarded with a hissed, “ _Jesus_ _Christ_.” Then punished with a stinging smack to her ass. “Brat,” Olivia chuckled.

  
She pulled Rollins back into her lap and without wasting time, held the cock steady, watching as Amanda sank deep down onto it, throwing her head back. The blonde rose and fell achingly slow at first, heart pounding at the captivated, hungry look on her lover's face as Olivia watched it pull out and sink back inside her. Then she began to grind her hips into it, harder, faster, and Liv gripped her hips, bucking under her to help. Finally, Liv worked her thumb in place over Amanda's pulsing clit, stroking it in tandem to her riding.

“My . . . name,” Liv grunted.

  
“Oh fuck,” Rollins whined, “oh God!”

  
“Close, but not quite,” Olivia urged, making her point by stopping her thumb.

  
“No, please – oh, fuck, I need to come!” she protested.

  
“Then say it.”

  
She fell forward, gasped into the crook of Olivia's neck, “Let me – I want to come on your cock.”

  
“Say.” The brunette bit her shoulder. “ _It!_ ” She bucked into her greedy pussy and rubbed her clit.

  
“Olivia-a-a- _ahhmyGod_!” Amanda shrieked as she got her wish, a deep vaginal orgasm with the clitoral one chasing it right on top. She felt Liv's arms go around her as she fell onto her chest.

  
“Don't get too comfortable,” Liv rumbled, “that was just round one.”  
.

  
.  
The top of round two found them on Amanda's bed. Strap-on and underwear had been shucked, leaving Olivia completely vulnerable under Amanda's adoring gaze. They kissed lazily, their sticky bodies entwined. “Please, Liv,” the blonde mumbled against her lips, “let me taste you.”

  
The sound of Rollins’ voice saying please drew a moan from Olivia, who shifted, opening her legs and pulling Amanda's hand into the space there. Amanda grunted with her shock and relief as her palm met damp curls and then engorged, slick heat that dripped down her fingers when she slipped them into her pussy.

  
“Unghhhh,” Olivia uttered, arching her back, “fuckkk me.”

  
“Yes, please,” Amanda whispered, quickening the pace of her fingers. “Christ, Liv, I can _hear_ you . . . so wet.” She moved low, between Olivia's legs, at last looking at her fully, heart full to aching at the privilege.

  
Glistening, slick, full, Rollins admired, eyes bright, before she pushed her tongue into the heady deluge. Her taste was like the dark, wild shore of some unconquerable island empire. It made Amanda think of rainstorms, of birds taking flight. And of love.

  
Olivia was panting, her hips twitching beneath her lover's worship, trying to keep her clit under the push of her tongue. How badly Rollins wanted her to let go, she could not know.

  
“Olivia,” Amanda murmured as she continued, “come. Please. I need it so badly.”

  
“God,” Liv sighed. _It's never been like this, never like this . . ._ she thought wildly. She could hear the sound of Rollins mouth over her clit, the fingers returning and it was all too much. She twitched and cried unintelligibly as her orgasm crashed through her like a prayer being answered.

  
“Incredible,” Amanda whispered, and dropped her head atop Liv's pelvis.

**TBC**

* * *

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	18. Invaluable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Bet you missed me! Whew – I have been busy like mad with my Tumblr and my new Instagram account! Links to both will be included here, if you're not following one or both, yet. Not only did I teach myself a bunch of things about making gifs and whatnot, I also wrote my very first (EVER) drabble, which also happened to be my very first (EVER) Cabenson! It is officially posted on my Tumblr now, for anyone curious.
> 
> Sorry that this took a bit longer to put out. I was stuck momentarily; things are moving again now. In fact, I imagine Diverge will be finished in another chapter or two. If that makes you sad, try not to fret too much – you might feel better knowing that I already have the prologue and first chapter to a new multi-chapter fic waiting in the wings! 
> 
> I would be humbled and grateful if you'd give me a follow, and a comment! Until next time – Smut Master. Xo
> 
> Rating: MA, NSFW
> 
> Spoilers: Closure Pt. 1, Disrobed, Loss, Ghost, Smoked, Justice Denied, Downloaded Child, Sheltered Outcasts
> 
> Trigger warnings: None

> Outlive me, outlive me  
> I love you too much.  
> Rubies and emeralds,  
> Sapphires and such.  
> Outlive me, outlive me  
> I love you too much  
> Coal into diamonds,  
> Ashes and dust.
> 
> There is a fire in place of a stone  
> Softens the letters and it takes you back home.  
> Where once it was written, the lines we obeyed  
> Now tenderly questions the choices we've made. - _Mad World, Outlive Me_ , Amelia Curran

She wasn't proud of it, but it had been Liv's intention to slip out of Amanda's bed near dawn. She could grab a shower at the precinct before her shift, and message Fin to bring her in a coffee. When she finally stirred, however, Olivia was faced with a certitude that she hadn't experienced before: Amanda was addictive. The touch of her naked skin, her smell, her taste – just their laying tangled together in the bedsheets was enough to make it impossible for Liv to cut and run without touching again.

  
So she does: as the first fingers of light push back the dark, Olivia kisses and slides her way down Rollins' warm, slumbering form until she is nipping tiny bites and kisses across her pelvis.

  
“Mm . . . time is it?” the blonde mumbles, coming around to the blood rushing to her groin.

  
“Early,” Liv tells her, sliding her hands down to gently push open her thighs. She settles into the space there, taking her time to look, to adore her the way she hadn’t gotten to earlier. “You're so beautiful, so pink,” she whispers.

  
Amanda arches, blushing with pleasure and anticipation. Then the tip of Olivia's tongue flicks at the spot where her clit is beginning to distend and pulse from under its hood. She lets out a protracted, light moan, grasping the blankets of her bed.

  
Olivia smiles against her, tasting her again, her tongue sliding lower to glide over her entrance. The salt of her was salt of the earth, and she nuzzled into it, tonguing her wantonly. She felt Amanda's hand fly to her head, grounding herself as she whimpered her appreciation.

  
“Are you going to come for me?” she asks Rollins quietly, grinning as she brings a hand up, cool fingers trailing through the abundant wetness.

  
“That's . . . not even a question,” the blonde grits out, “the question is, how much more I can survive.”

  
Liv chuckled. “You'll make it.” Her mouth lowers all the way onto the sweet spot where Amanda wants her most, suckling almost tentatively as she slides a lithe finger all the way inside. Alternating between sucking hard and soft, fingers and no fingers, Olivia gets lost in the enjoyment of it, driving Rollins to the edge and then over it.

  
She kisses the panting blonde, smiling but apologetic. “Go back to sleep. I have to go ahead and get ready for work.”

  
“See you at the office,” Amanda mumbles, already losing the battle with sleep.

  
Within minutes, the dark-haired older woman is back in her clothes, and slipping away silently into the dawn.  
.

  
.  
It's not until she is in the precinct, standing under the hot spray of the shower, that the guilt and the fear hits her. Hands against the wet tile, she tries to fight the tears that burn at her eyes, and the tears win. Olivia rebukes herself, rips herself to shreds for taking what she was too scared to let happen at first, already knowing that she will withdraw and compartmentalize. It's how she's always reacted to anything that made her happy.

  
She gave everything to the job, and in return, the job became everything to her. Over the years SVU had become family, friend, faith; the unit had schooled her, protected her, checked her limits and pushed her to grow. But every time the job had also tried to become lover . . . Liv had learned, over and over that life would not let her have both. Alex had left, and Elliot, David and Brian - the message was clear: Liv was meant for one and not the other. The job, she was good at – love, not so much.

  
A sob escapes her as she comprehends just how badly she has fucked up this time, and how great the loss will be in equal measure.

  
Olivia will run.

  
Elliot's advice was now sixteen years old

  
_(Be nice to him - maybe even over-nice. He'll be cold, but he'll get over it.)_

  
but still good advice for pushing someone away.

  
She will break Amanda's heart. Her own.

  
Then fill the space with the work.

  
Dressed and ready to head to her office, however, she is resolute. Her face is all business, without even a trace of momentary weakness. Liv messages Fin with her coffee order, and settles into following up on emails as the precinct begins to hum with the usual sounds of the workday coming to life.  
.

  
.  
Conveniently, the job kept them all busy for the day. It wasn't until the precinct had begun to empty that Liv was faced with the first trial of cooling the fire between herself and Amanda. The blonde waited as long as she could, before popping her head just inside the office door.

  
“Did you want to head out?” she smiled brightly, “Maybe grab some dinner?”

  
Slipping her glasses off, Olivia shook her head politely. “Sorry, Rollins - I've got some paperwork that I have to get filed or I'm in trouble.”

  
The overly-polite tone was not lost on Amanda, who deflated slightly, right away. “Okay . . . well, text me later, let me know you got home safe.”

  
“I'll do my best,” Liv told her, eyes already back on her laptop. Another disappointed glance, and she was aware of Rollins shutting the door.

  
She recalled, from those many years ago, what pushing Cassidy away had been like, and she sighed with discomfort. Wasn't age supposed to come with some ease about facing the truth? Surely not all the Sages had been wrong?

  
_You'll make it,_ she recalled telling Amanda that morning. Now Olivia sat, disquieted at the necessity of orchestrating the younger woman's foundering as the evening stretched out before her, empty and silent.  
.

  
.  
It took just under a week, of coming in first to the office, and using every imaginable emotional defense that Olivia knew, before things between them simmered. For the Lieutenant, who had more work on her plate, and more experience driving a wedge between herself and a co-worker, things reverted to full autopilot. Work, paperwork, court, wine, bed, repeat – a pattern only sometimes modified by a hot bath or a good meal. There was just one smoke left in the pack she had bought in Michigan, and Liv had sworn to herself that when it was gone, there would be no more.

  
The worst part had been, and was still, watching the light go out in Rollins' interactions on the job. She had been keeping her head down, doing what she was told. But no more and no less. Other than trying to pull Carisi from his undercover stint at the homeless shelter, Amanda had stopped making an effort to stick her oar into things. Olivia supposed she should be relieved, but all she really felt was a sense of trepidation.

  
Then, about the beginning of April, a package arrived at the one-six for Amanda. Liv's office door was open - along with the window behind her desk - to let the Spring air flow through, so she saw the whole transaction. A smiling courier, who had stopped at the check-in desk first, politely interrupted Amanda to pass her the box. It wasn't very thick, but long and wide. Liv watched Rollins sign for it, the UPS kid making eyes at her shyly, then hurrying off again.

  
A manilla envelope had been taped on top, and Amanda pulled it off to open before the package. Unable to read the look on the blonde's face as she read the letter enclosed, Olivia moved anxiously to the office doorway. The letter absorbed, Rollins ripped the heavy brown paper at the top of whatever it was.  
There was a long beat, followed by a hand raising to cover Amanda's mouth.

  
“Amanda?” Liv said nearly immediately, “What is it?” Since there was neither movement nor answer, Liv crossed to the desk to see for herself.

  
Well – she could at least understand why Amanda had been struck dumb: It was _The Dukes of Hazzard_ game, from the shed in Michigan.

  
Rollins handed the letter to Olivia without speaking.

  
_Dear Det. Rollins:_

  
_As the resolution of the Messervey case necessitated an intense investigation and clearing of all the property belonging to the deceased suspect, this package is much delayed in arriving, so we extend our apologies._   
_In Rhoda H.’s effects from her prison cell, a note was found which was revealed to be a Last Will and Testament of sorts. The court had to determine, ultimately, that the document could be executed, and that the item in question was not evidence required for the case._

  
_Enclosed, you will find the board game that Rhoda indicated should be forwarded to “Miss Amanda,” which we understand to be yourself. Should you require anything further in regards to this matter, please feel free to contact our office._

  
It was notarized by the Adrian ADA. Liv let out the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding, just as Rollins sank into her desk chair. Laying the letter down, Olivia struggled to find something to say that was appropriately considerate. As she recognized the emotions just under the surface of Amanda's posture, however, no words came. Instead, she reached out and touched her shoulder gently, then returned to her office.  
.

  
.  
At end of day, Liv was throwing things into her purse and preparing to sign off her laptop when an incoming email dinged, startling her from her exhausted fog. She sat back down and slipped her glasses on with a sigh, bringing up the email in offhanded routine. She stilled, however, when she saw that it was from Amanda.  
Disbelieving, Olivia’s eyes skimmed the email in sentence fragments:

  
_Formally set forth . . ._

  
_To leave Special Victims Unit._

  
_. . . request reassignment . . ._

  
_. . . invaluable learning experience . . ._

  
Olivia’s heartbeat faltered painfully as she closed out the email with numb fingers. She got to her feet, hands on her hips in futility, fighting the desire to throw her purse across the office. When her phone went off with a text message, she jumped and swore.

  
**On my desk**.

  
Also from Amanda.

  
Liv walked quickly to the desk just outside her office. The board game was still sitting on top of the desk, like an uninvited ghost from a another lifetime. Taped to the cover of the game was a scrap of paper, with a hand-scrawled note: _You should have this; I don't want to play without you. – A._

  
Turning back to glance into her office at her purse, Liv fought the prick of tears at her dark eyes and considered how good the last cigarette in the crowded bottom of her bag sounded to her right then.

  
**TBC**

* * *

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	19. The Spring Fawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: *takes a deep breath* IT'S DONE, Y'ALL. WHOO-EE! As I have mentioned once or twice before, as much as I love writing Rolivia for you guys, my OTP is EO til I die, so as you can imagine, I have been in a flatout screaming fangirl spiral for like four days. There is a lot going on with the promos for the reunion, so I got away from my fanfic headspace briefly. I didn't want to bring that into my Tumblr, so I needed some time. Lol
> 
> Now that this posted, obviously, the incentive for my current KF goal is over. I am still $10 from that goal. You can find the link on Tumblr or Instagram. My next appointment for an eye injection for my Diabetic neuropathy is March 5th, so don't be overly shocked if there is a lull in my writing around that time, as I give my eye a chance to recover.
> 
> Rating: MA, NSFW
> 
> Spoilers: Intersecting Lives/Heartfelt Passages, Poisoned Motive, Wrong is Right, Amaro's One-Eighty, Wonderland Story
> 
> Trigger warnings: references to canon character death, hospital setting, discussion of death, references to funeral services.

Even with her eyes closed, the day refused to stop replaying itself inside her head.

_Move in! Move in!_

_I didn't fire, it just went off!_

_. . . somebody look at Mike!_

Olivia hated hospitals, and the lifetime of memories she had tied up in them. The soft light, the way the tile absorbed the whispering footsteps of nurses so that Death could sneak in and out of patient rooms unchecked. Most of all, the smell: desperation, exhaustion and sterile surfaces among held breaths.

_Where's mommy?_

_We got a gut shot here!_

When the hand touched her shoulder, Olivia jumped reflexively, her eyes flying open.

“Hey, hey,” Amanda said gently, “it's just me.” She sat next to her on the short, uncomfortable waiting room sofa. “How are you holdin’ up?”

Just a few days after Rollins had tendered her resignation from SVU, Mike Dodds had followed up with his announcement that he was leaving for Joint Terrorism. So, as awkward as everything was, Liv had to tell Amanda her transfer would have to sit on the back burner until the staff shortage and the Munson case were both sorted out. To Rollins' credit, she had taken the news well, and worked through it without making things harder.

“I – ” Olivia got out a word, then only shook her head, her eyes swollen with need of crying.

Amanda held out her hand, palm up, saying nothing. After a moment, Liv slipped her hand into it and let her fingers be squeezed. “You don't have to talk,” Amanda told her.

So they sat, silently, waiting while somewhere inside the Lincoln Hospital Death was creeping.

.

.

The fear that sliced through Liv's tired, dark eyes the first time she heard Mike slur his speech was a fear she hadn't felt in long years. It brought her immediately to another memory of cracking gunshots and blood spilling, except it had been Amanda's then, back when the feel of the blonde shaking, naked beneath her touch had only been a tightly-held fantasy.

When she is finally called to Mike's room by Dodds Senior, Olivia manually forces her every muscle to walk away from Amanda – the only thing left that seems to be tethering her at all to the world. At the foot of the hospital bed, every dull noise of medical equipment seemed amplified tenfold from when Mike had been awake. So strange, the silence in knowing when the reality of Death hangs so heavy.

She hears the words Chief Dodds is telling her, without needing to comprehend them: . . . _clots in his brain . . ._ _then bleeding . . . They tried . . . a massive stroke._ He is explaining it to himself, not her, and Liv lets him. When the man who is nearly 15 years her senior breaks down, she does what she has done all her life for the broken – she folds him into her arms and tells him she is sorry.

In her mind, she whispers _I am weary, so weary._

The soundless thought trails her as she moves numbly from the room back up the corridor, repeating with each silent step – _weary. Weary. Weary._ Until at last, she raises her head to look at her expectant unit, delivering the news as only the weight of knowing can.

One by one their blank faces turn away, the only comprehension visible is in their eyes, until Olivia is the only one left standing in the long corridor.

.

.

Even with all the bells and whistles, and full regalia, the funeral service comes together quickly. Mike's mother has to travel back to India, of course, Alice to Chicago, and Matt to Mexico, so there is some sense of urgency. Olivia is up earlier than really necessary on that day, showered and with her hair pulled back into a painfully tight bun. She sat on the foot of her bed, looking bleakly at her clean, pressed formal uniform.

Having to wear it always lead to a reluctant walk down the road of her losses. The colleagues, friends, mentors lost along the way – and not just the ones who died. It made her think of Jeffries, gone these last 15 years, of how much the unit had changed in just the last four years with people coming, but mostly going. She had lost the man who was the only father she'd ever had, preceded of course by the man who kept things in check when Cragen wasn't there.

In Elliot she had lost partner, best friend, potential lover, husband, family. The only one who had known her, good with bad, and still chose to champion her, always. Olivia had decided she could never do it again; she couldn't be that vulnerable. This decision was before Gary Munson's gun had gone off.

Now, another loss, another empty space for pain to live.

Liv's hands moved over the gold buttons of her uniform jacket, then tucked her hair beneath her cap and picked up her dress gloves. The face that looked back at her in the mirror was much older than the Detective who had walked into the old one-six building at the age of 31. More and more often, she was finding herself wondering why she couldn't bring herself to walk away.

.

.

Shared grief is often lessened grief, and so the crowded bar where they gather after the cemetery has a very different atmosphere. Not completely jovial, but not so rigid as the steps of the cathedral where bagpipes heralded Mike's admittance to whatever is beyond with Amazing Grace. Tears still fall here, and voices choke around the lump of sadness concealed in throats, but are accompanied by a smile and a memory.

Olivia reveals Mike's valiant secret to Amanda regarding the tape from the D'Amico case, and the smile it manifests is the first time Liv feels something other than hollow in days.

“That son of a bitch, he let me twist in the wind,” she laughs, but the sadness in her eyes is touched with admiration.

From there, Liv finds herself across from the Chief again, a man who is an enigma writ large in contrast to his spirited ex-wife, who is introspective in her clean white linen.

But soon enough, even shared grief is enervating. The bar slowly empties as the afternoon turns to evening, and polite well-wishes are exchanged as ties are loosened. Olivia is years deep in the corners of her mind, seated at the bar when Rollins approaches. She rests a warm hand against her back.

“I've got an Uber on the way. You wanna go home?”

Liv considers the last inch of beer in her mug, then nods, slipping from her stool. Amanda tosses Liv's formal gloves into her dress cap and carries it for her as they exit into the cool Spring dark onto the sidewalk. They don't talk, not even after the ride arrives and they start off. When Olivia's street is turned onto, Amanda asks, “Want me to walk you up?” but the brunette simply shakes her head.

Liv is out of her uniform jacket and untying her tie when the knock comes to her apartment door. Gazing through the peephole, she opens it on a sigh:

“Amanda – ”

But she is forcefully cut off by the hand Rollins holds up. A heavy beat of silence follows, before Amanda says evenly, “It wasn't your fault.”

Olivia's entire being rejects the words so violently that she plays dumb. “What wasn't?”

“Dodds. Rhoda. Michigan. Me, getting hurt out there. Christ, even your old partner leaving. Not everything is your fault, Liv.”

She resents how easily Amanda reaches inside her and exposes her weaknesses; she fights the loss of control. “Now is really not – ”

“I don't really care,” she shrugs immediately. “You need to listen and hear me. Dodds is not dead because of anything you did.”

Liv ducks her head. “I didn't search Munson, I . . . ”

Rollins flattened her palm against the apartment door and pushed it open further. “You gotta tell me who it is taught you that you taking on all the risk is somehow always the right answer,” she demanded, “because it's bullshit, Liv!”

Olivia still wasn't meeting her gaze, and Amanda reached with both hands, cupping her face and making her tip her head up. “It. Wasn't. Your. _Fault_ ,” she reiterated. This time, the tears also flout control, and Liv's brown eyes fill to the brink.

“I can't.” The two words rip from raw, tender throat, and when she blinks, the tears spill.

“Can't what – forgive yourself?” Amanda asks.

“Can't- can't _let you in_ ,” Olivia sobs.

Rollins does not need to be told that she doesn't just mean the apartment. She takes a step forward, searching Liv's brown eyes with concern, “If you don't . . . ” she whispered, and this time it was her own voice that broke, “if you _don’t_ , Liv, then you're just as dead as Dodds is. If you don't, then he died for _nothing!_ You think living like this, all buttoned up inside, is why you've survived this goddam job all these years?”

The tears were trickling steadily now, and her face in Amanda's hands trembled.

“Let me in,” Rollins whispered, and pressed her lips to the salty streak of a hot tear. She pushed forward, urging their bodies to step backward, across the threshold. “Let me in, Olivia – _I love you._ ”

After the burden of the day, the three words poured over her like a kind of absolution. She put her arms around Amanda's neck and sought her mouth as first aid, breathing her in with her want of hope to believe. Nothing would be rushed this time; everything was purposeful, each decision more obvious than the last.

Olivia's bed was cool to the touch and generous with space for them to seek healing. Their bodies covered each other, completely naked, slowly tangling and untangling as they discovered how they fit best. Amanda's pale, pinked skin atop Liv's darker body was more than Liv had dared hope.

Had she forgotten how to make love, in places that weren't her mind’s eye?

_No_ , Amanda's body answered, _you forgot nothing . . ._

Gentle hands on her breasts, pushing them together as the blonde slowly dragged teeth and tongue over their peaks. Kisses down the curve of her spine as the brush of Amanda's breasts over her skin set her aflame. Olivia lets herself focus on the things she normally rushes past in her self-protection: Amanda’s singular finger stroking circles around her tender, exposed clit before she exhales warm breath over it, watching it twitch. The way her pelvis instinctually rises to seek Amanda's body as sharp, nipping kisses are pressed to her neck.

“Let go,” the blonde whispers, “I got you. There's nothing to be afraid of.”

So she does; nothing is held back as she cries out, lets the control rest at last as she wets her lover's palm, her thighs, the bed with proof they are not lost but alive, alive.

“Again,” Amanda grins, thrusting her middle finger into Olivia until the heel of her palm is flush with her hard clit.

She denies her nothing, coming again with a triumphant sob, her nipples hardening as goosebumps rise in the wake of her orgasm. She looks straight into the blue of the younger woman's eyes as she slides her thigh between her legs teasingly.

“Tell me what you want, Detective,” she smiles.

Rollins takes Liv’s hand, kissing over her fingers slowly. “You,” she tells her. “Just you. And I’m willing to wait through whatever it is that scares you.” Keeping their eyes locked on one another, Amanda took the hand and brought it between her legs.

Olivia’s fingers moved without hesitation, stroking up between her silky lips, watching the flush deepen in her cheeks. She reminds herself not to rush, that there is time to enjoy the hungry heat dilating Amanda's pupils in response to her stroking fingers. But just as before, she wants more than that – wants that wild taste of her on her tongue.

She licks her clean, smiling, thrilling at every whimper that escapes Amanda's kiss-swollen mouth. Her hand reaches up, fingers touching lightly until Amanda's mouth opens and takes them in, sucking greedily. It finally drives the blonde to sit up, pulling Liv back into her arms, laughing at their own abandon. Liv coaxes her onto her knees, where she bends above Amanda and fills her from behind with her fingers.

Olivia's feels the spaces inside her filling, too – with a kind of relief, a safety. Like a Spring fawn, perhaps she is too new to call it love.

Amanda arches back onto the fingers, slow at first, moaning deeply each time they bottom out. Then faster, making Liv mutter encouragement, unable to tear her eyes from how wet her hand continued to get. There was a scream, before Amanda dropped face-first into the bed pillows, gasping.

Olivia stretched out alongside her, kissing gently whatever skin she could reach. “I was worried I was too old for all this,” she teased.

“Shut your mouth!” Amanda laughed. She turned her head, and for long moments, they lay there, searching each others' eyes in silence.

“You're the only one who's never given up on me,” Liv finally whispered.

Amanda stroked a hand over Liv's hair. “Well, I might know a thing or two about that - needin' someone who sticks in your corner, even when the fight is messy.”

“Tired?” Olivia asked.

“Yes.”

“You wanna sleep?” she pressed.

“No,” Amanda smirked, “but, luckily, there are plenty of hours in the night.”


	20. Epilogue: Rematch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: None
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Trigger warnings: None

When Olivia wakes in a shaft of hot sunlight the following morning, she is transported back to Michigan. Things are quiet, she feels serene, even though there is still so much to face.

But, when she rolls over . . . she is alone in the bed.

She sits up in a jerk, her heart leaping to her throat as she feels the fluttering of her defenses rising again. In a stumble, Liv gets out of bed, pulling the sheet along with her in lieu of looking for clothes. She glances into her bathroom only to find it empty.

She opens the bedroom door and enters the hall as she finishes wrapping her sheet around her body. Tears have already jumped to her eyes as she starts to feel that emptiness creeping back inside herself. Then she turns the corner to the kitchen.

Olivia is hit by the overwhelming smells of a full breakfast: eggs, sausage, pancakes, fresh berries and yogurt. Two plates are piled high, steaming, at the breakfast bar. There are glasses of grapefruit juice poured up, bright pink in the apartment that is flooded with even more sun than the bedroom.

“Aw, shoot,” Amanda drawls, “I wasn't quite done. Did I – I wake you?” She turns from the stove, sees that Olivia is in nothing but the sheet. “That's cute,” she grins, “you going to eat breakfast in that?” She licks batter from a fingertip, and her smile is like nothing Liv has seen.

Liv blinks the tears from her eyes and replies, “Carisi told me you can't cook.”

Amanda chuckles. “Yeah, well – I let Carisi believe a lot of things.”

“How – how did you do all this?” she asks.

“I woke up early . . . went out, came back,” she shrugged. “I hope that's ok?”

Olivia is struck dumb that she slept sound enough for any of it. Her tummy rumbles, and she steps closer to the breakfast plates curiously. Before she gets all the way there, something in the living room catches her eye.

On the coffee table, _The Dukes of Hazzard_ game is set up ready for playing, and a single red rose lays on the board.

Liv is aware of Amanda coming up behind her, and then her arms slip around her waist from behind, her head bowing to her shoulder. “I thought you might want to play with me after breakfast,” she murmurs.

“Have you been practicing?” Liv teases.

“Oh don't worry - I'm going to win for sure, this time.”

Olivia turns in Amanda's arms, looks her in her eyes. “You're wrong,” she shakes her head, “this time, _I_ won.” Her lips are a breath from the blonde's mouth and she whispers, “I love you,” before she closes the distance between her and her walls once and for all.

**END**

* * *

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/EN:   
> What a journey writing this has been. I haven't written anything this length in ten years. And the immense amount of support and encouragement that I have received from readers has meant everything. You folx are truly incredible. I hope this ending serves you all well.
> 
> Please tell me what this story has meant to you, check out my other works, my Tumblr and Instagram.
> 
> xoxo HeartEyes4Mariska


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